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THROUGH CITIES 
AND PRAIRIE LANDS 



THROUGH CITIES 
AND PRAIRIE LANDS 



SKETCHES OF AN AMERICAN TOUR. 



BY 



LADY DUFFUS HARDY. 




NEW YORK : 
R. WORTHINGTON, 770 Broadway. 

1881. 



ru^fc 



PRESS OF J. V. LITTLE i CO., 

ro TO 20 ASTOB PLACE, NEW VORK. 



MRS. WILLIAM HAYWOOD, 



IN TOKEN 



OF MY AFFECTIONATE REGARD. 



I DEDICATE 



THESE PAGES. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 

PAGE 

Our Good Ship Sardinian— K\. Sea — Our Companions — Their 
Amusements — The Theorist — The Phantom Ship — Our Last 
Night on Board i 

CHAPTER II. 

QUEBEC. 

Land again — A Quaint Announcement — A Gastronomical Ex- 
hibition — A Pleasant Fireside — The Convent — The Heights 
of Abraham — Wolfe's Monument — French and English 
Canadians 13 

CHAPTER III. 

MONTREAL. 

The Stolid Indian — Mount Royal — Sir Hugh Allen's Home — 

The Banks— The Windsor Hotel 27 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE CAPITAL OF THE DOMINION. 

River Travelling — Trail of the Fire King — Ottawa — Parliament 

Buildings — The City — The Home of our Princess 35 

vii 



Viii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER V. 

FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 

PAGE 

On the Train— The Thousand Islands— At Kingston— Toronto 
— The Government House — Arrival of the Princess Louise 
— "We expect the Moon " — Niagara Falls 46 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE EMPIRE CITY. 

New York — Fifth Avenue — Madison Square — The Elevated 

Railway— The Cars— The Shops— The People— West Point 59 

CHAPTER VII. 

TO THE PHCENIX CITY. 

We Start — Our Car — Our Dressing-room — Chicago — Its Park — 

The Palmer House , 72 

CHAPTER VIII. 

WESTWARD HO ! 

Our Travelling Hotel — The Prairies — The Emigrant Train — 
Bret Harte's Heroes— Reception of General Grant in the 
Wild West — " See, the Conquering Hero Comes " — The 
Procession 80 

CHAPTER IX. 

ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 

Our Fellow-passengers— Unprotected Females— Prairie Dog 
Land — A Cosy Interior — Cheyenne — The Rocky Moun- 
tains—" Castles not Made by Hands "— Ogden 91 



CONTENTS. IX 

CHAPTER X. 

THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. 

PAGE 

Salt Lake — Our Mormon Conductor — Mormon Wives — Their 

Daughters — Their Recruits — Their Agricultural Population 102 

CHAPTER XI. 

AMONG THE MORMONS. 

Society — A Mormon Wife's View — The Shops — Amelia Palace 
— The Tabernacle — The Organ — Endowment House — A 
Mormon Widow — Currency in the Old Days — The Elders 
Hold Forth 114 

CHAPTER XII. 

ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 

Ogden Station — Bustling Bedtime — Boots — An Invasion — A 
Wedding Aboard — The American Desert — The Glorious 
Sierras — Cape Horn— Dutch Flats — "Here they are ! " — A 
Phantom City 129 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE GOLDEN CITY. 

The Streets — Kaleidoscopic Scenes — The Stock Boards — Wild 
Cat — Bulls and Bears — The Markets — The "Dummy" — 
Lone Mountain 142 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE OLD MISSION. 

The Windmills— The Golden Gate Park— The Seal Rock— 

The Cliff House — The Mission Dolores 155 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XV. 

SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 

PAGE 

Street Architecture— Curiosities of Climate — Brummagem Bar- 
onets—The Sand Lot— The Forty-niners—" Society La- 
dies " « 162 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. 

A Visit to Chinatown — Its General Aspect — A Tempting Dis- 
play — Barbers' Shops — A Chinese Restaurant— Their Joss 
House— Their Gods I75 

CHAPTER XVn. 

A WORLD UNDERGROUND. 

The Pawnbroker's Shop — The Opium Dens — The Smokers — 

A World within a World — The Women's Quarters 187 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 

Gambling Dens — Theatres — An Acrobatic Performance — New 
Year's Visits — The Bride — The Hoodlum — A Scare — The 
Matron's Pretty Feet 197 

CHAPTER XIX. 

CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. 

Old Friends — The Ranche — Christmas Day — Salinas Valley — 

A Magic City — A Californian Sunset 2to 



CONTENTS. XI 

CHAPTER XX. 

IN THE VALLEY OF CARMELO. 

PAGE 

Monterey — The Ruins of the Mission — The Spanish Inhabitants 
of the Old Town— The Moss Beach— The Lighthouse— 
The Pebbly Pescadero — Good-bye 221 

CHAPTER XXI. 

ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 

New Year's Visits — The Gentlemen's Day — Local Attractions 
— Berkeley College — Saucelito — In Arcadia — Among the 
Woods and Flowers — A Fairy Festival 231 

CHAPTER XXII. 

IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 
Pleasant Retreats — Californian Trees — Canon and Forest Scenery 
— Duncan Mills — A Stormy Evening — The Redwoods — 
Farewell to the " Golden City." 243 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE SILVER STATE. 
Snowed in — Indians — Journey to Denver — A Forage for a Sup- 
per — "Crazed" — Domestic Difficulties — Colorado Springs 
—Cheyenne Canon— The "Garden of the Gods "— Ute 
Pass— Glen Eyrie 258 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

BRICKS AND MORTAR. 
The Road to St. Louis— The Kansas Brigands' Exploit — Pictur- 
esque Population — Mississippi River — Washington — The 
Capitol — Public Buildings — Society — A Monument to a 
Lost Cause — Mount Vernon 27S 



xii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE QUAKER CITY. 

PAGE 

Baltimore — Its Stony Streets— Druids' Park — A Stroll through 
the City — Aristocratic Quarters — Washington Monument — 
Philadelphia — General Aspect — Picturesque Market Street 
— Fairmount Zoological Gardens 292 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 

A New York Summer — How they meet it — Airy Customs — Coney 
Island — Rockaway and Long Branch — A Mountain Village 
— Ellenville — View from " Sam's Point " 302 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE " AMERICAN ATHENS." 

Aboard the Massachusetts — A Perambulation — The Electric Ma- 
chine — An Easy Way of committing Suicide — Boston — The 
Cars— The Common— The " Glorious Fourth of July " 314 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

FAREWELL VISITS. 

A Visit to Longfellow — The Poet's Home — Dr. Oliver Wendell 
Holmes — Newport — A Fashionable Watering-place — The 
Old Town — The " Cottages "—Homeward 325 



THROUGH CITIES 

AND 

PRAIRIE LANDS. 



CHAPTER I. 

ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 



Our Good Ship Sardinian — At Sea — Our Companions — Their Amuse- 
ments — The Theorist — The Phantom Ship — Our Last Night on 
Board. 




, T is the gray dawn of a July day ; we are up 
with the sun, nay, before the sun, eager to start 
on our first Atlantic voyage. In order to avoid 
the hurry and bustle of a crowded Liverpool hotel, 
I and ray companion, for we are two, had resolved to 
start by the first train, and go direct on board. There- 
fore, at six o'clock on this bright July morning, we arrive 
at Euston Square station, and there find a host of friends, 
who, in spite of the early hour, have gathered to bid us 
'^ God speed." They are all gift-laden ; one brings books 
and bonbons, another a basket of rich ripe strawberries, 
then a patent corkscrew and telescope is thrust into my 
. hand, and last, though not least, just as the train is mov- 



2 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ing out of the station, one late arrival breathlessly gasps 
*' good-bye " and flings a packet of pins, a box of matches, 
and a cake of scented soap in at the window. 

At Liverpool the little steam-tug was in waiting to con- 
vey us to the vessel, which lay a short distance from the 
landing stage. It was a lovely July day ; the sun was 
blooming, like a flower of light, in the bright blue skies, 
the tiny waves danced and murmured joyously as they ran 
rippling along the shore, and the soft balmy air, laden 
" with the briny kisses of the great sweet mother," greeted 
us with invigorating breath as we steamed across and 
stepped on board the good ship Sardinian^ ready to face 
the fearful ten days which we had so often anticipated 
with shivering and shudderings at our cosy fireside. 

There was a hurried hand-shaking. '' Good-byes " and 
parting words resounded on all sides of us, uttered in 
varied shades of feeling, some with a choking sob as of 
friends who would never meet again, others with hearty 
cheerful voices, as though they were bound for young life's 
first holiday. Presently stentorian lungs shouted " all for 
the shore," departing friends and relatives swarmed down 
the steep wooden wall of the vessel ; we all rushed to the 
side, nods and smiles " that were half tears " were freely 
exchanged, last words were shouted from one to the other, 
and amid the waving of handkerchiefs and echoing voices, 
the little steam-tug which had brought the passengers on 
board went shrieking and snorting back to the shore, and 
our great ship steamed majestically up the Mersey, out 
towards the obnoxious Irish Channel ; some weak-minded 
mortals started with a hazy idea that if the Channel treated 



ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 3 

them too roughly, they could, if they pleased, land at 
Moville, and so bid " adieu " to the horrors of the sea for 
ever ; but that was a cowardly idea which I never en- 
couraged for a moment. 

My first idea was to take a survey of my fellow-passen- 
gers. There were plenty of them ; as a rule they were 
mere commonplace specimens of humanity, such as nature 
turns out by thousands, with no distinctive mark, but 
merely labelled "men" and "women." There were ex- 
ceptions of course. One was an elderly hard-featured 
man, bronzed and weather-beaten, with keen, gray eyes, 
which looked as though they could detect a spot on the 
face of the sun without the aid of glasses, and so searching 
that, like the east wind, they could reach the marrow at a 
single blow. But my attention was most attracted by a 
very young and very beautiful widow ; beautiful, so far as 
grace of form, regularity of feature, and soft colouring was 
concerned, but the beauty of her face was utterly destroyed 
by its expression, which may be briefly catalogued as 
"evil." She looked like a woman who had got a story, 
and not a pleasant one. No accompanying friends had 
bid her "good-bye," or "good speed." She was alone, 
but she did not seem lonely. She carried a child about a 
year old in her arms, and marched up and down the deck, 
looking neither to the right nor to the left, till the gong 
sounded and we all went down to dinner ; but before the 
table could be satisfactorily arranged the question arose, 
"What was to become of the baby?" At last a young 
Scotchman volunteered to immolate himself on the altar 
of beauty, and held out his arms for the child ; she gave 



4 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

it without a word, and he disappeared up the companion- 
way, holding it upside down, which awkwardness may per- 
haps be excused, considering that was the first time he 
had officiated in the capacity of dry-nurse. 

The gilded glories of the saloon were a surprise to me, 
as this was the first time I had been on an Atlantic 
steamer. Of course, in common with the world gen- 
erally, I had heaj'd of the luxurious arrangements and 
admirably served table on board those magnificent ves- 
sels ; but I had yet to learn how luxury and comfort 
combined could make that floating world a pleasant ten 
days' home. The dreaded voyage turned out delight- 
fully. The Irish Channel behaved beautifully, literally 
"it broke into dimples and laughed in the sun," as its 
rippling waves ran dancing round the prow and along the 
black sides of our vessel, gurgling and murmuring in 
smothered tones as though they were enjoying a joke, 
exulting in their hidden strength, knowing that their 
pleasant playful mood might pass and their tiny wavelets 
grow into mountains and uplift us in their giant arms and 
toss us up to the moon, or crush our huge iron-hearted 
home like an eggshell, and swallow us all up. On we 
went, cutting a rapid way through the calm waters ; the 
daylight and the land together faded from our sight, the 
stars came out, and as the silent night closed slowly around 
us, merry laughing voices sank into quiet sober tones. 
We seemed to realize the fact that we were alone on the 
wide world of waters— the same living restless waters 
whereon Christ had walked, and whose waves he had 
bidden " Peace, be still." We retired to our cosy little 



ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 5 

State-room early, and slept as we had never dreamed 
we could sleep on our first night at sea, our slumbers 
soothed, not broken, by the musical " Yo, heave, ho ! " of 
the sailors ; and the steady monotonous " thud, thud " of 
the engine had a by no means unpleasant effect on our 
drowsily unaccustomed ears. When we awoke in the 
morning we found ourselves, not tossing, but gliding 
calmly over the ^' wild Atlantic waves," which were roll- 
ing round us on all sides as far as the eye could reach, 
a world of palpitating waters, unruffled and smooth as the 
bosom of a lake. For three days this calm continued. 
The masculine element grew turbulent and rebelled 
against this unnatural state of things ; there was some- 
thing wrong about it altogether ; even the " rolling 
forties," from whom some show of spirit was expected, 
forgot to do their duty, and allowed us to ride over them 
without a protesting blow ; their wild white horses were 
stabled in the caves below, and with all sails set, a brisk 
breeze following in our wake, and the briny kisses of the 
" great sweet mother " on our faces, we scudded along at '' 
the rate of fifteen knots an hour. We female passengers 
thoroughly appreciated the stormless sea, and paced up 
and down the deck chatting and exchanging harmless 
confidences ; the gentlemen tried to beguile the time with 
ring-toss and shovel-board. When they grew tired of 
such harmless occupations they got up a walking match, 
or ran half-mile races round the deck, and, indeed, in 
every way did their best to scare away ennui, and make 
the monotonous days and hours pass pleasantly ; for after 
the first novelty of the scene is over, skies of eternal 



6 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

changeless blue and calm summer seas are apt to grow 
monotonous, and a thunderstorm or a howling hurricane, 
"warranted harmless," would have created a pleasant 
diversion. However, on the whole, time passed pleasantly- 
enough ; we were all sociably inclined, and lived on 
strictly communistic principles, in a general exchange of 
civilities. Everybody was welcome to the belongings of 
everybody else ; we used each other's chairs, rugs, wraps, 
and even made occasional walking sticks of one another's 
husbands, and when we had nothing else to do indulged in 
a game of speculation concerning the " widow," who held 
herself aloof, in a state of as complete isolation as though 
she had been on a desert island ; she accepted courtesies 
without a word of thanks, or refused them with an 
impatient gesture, till the chivalrous spirit of the gentle- 
men flickered and died out, and as she resented any offer 
of assistance, she was left to stagger about the deck at 
her pleasure. The child was the pet and plaything of 
everybody on board ; the mother seemed willing to ignore 
its existence, and gave it only a kind of wooden automatic 
attention at best. Nothing attracted or interested her, 
and the beautiful dark face became a weird strange 
mystery to us. We grew accustomed to see the tall lithe 
figure pacing silently to and fro like a shadowy ghost 
in the gloaming ; for long after the daylight faded and 
the evening closed in she continued her monotonous 
round, like a perturbed spirit that could know no rest. 

We had a theorist on board, too, who by a sheer habit 
of aggravation kept us lively. His theory was starvatmi. 
Nobody ought to be sick, nobody ought to be hungry ; 



ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. ^ 

he pounced upon everybody with an appetite of even the 
most moderate dimensions. 

"My -dear madam," said he in deprecating tones, 
addressing an elderly lady who was modestly picking a 
chicken-bone, "you are committing an outrage upon 
nature ; she doesn't require that chicken-bone." 

" I must eat to support life," said the lady apologeti- 
cally. 

" Bah ! you can support life on the backbone of a 
bloater ; as I say, you are outraging nature, forcing things 
upon her that she doesn't want, and she will revenge her- 
self by disturbing your digestion and depressing your 
spirits." 

" My spirits are always depressed ; I don't know what 
it is to be cheerful ;/<?zc/,"''she answered in a lachrymose 
tone. 

" Of course not. An overloaded stomach acts like a 
weight to keep the spirits dov/n. Look at me," he added, 
slapping his ample chest and outstretching his brawny 
arm, "/';;/ strong and healthy ; I nourish myself upon — 
next to nothing, and I'm never hungry — never de- 
pressed." 

" Ah, sir ! " she answered, shaking her head with a tear 
in her eye, " if you were in my place you'd never be any- 
thing else ; but you don't know what it is to lose your 
life's partner." 

" Don't I ? Why, I've buried two ! This is my third 
venture." He jerked his head towards a fair, pale little 
woman, whose appetite was evidently under his control. 
"Why, when I first married my httle wife there," he added, 



8 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

regarding her affectionately, " she used to eat three meals 
a day ; now she is reduced to one." 

" By the time you have reduced her to half a meal, per- 
haps, she'll give you a chance of experimenting on a fourth," 
suggested my companion ; which observation our theorist 
did not choose to hear, but sauntered on, threatening one 
with apoplexy, scaring another with visions of sudden 
death ; investing everybody with the " ills that flesh is heir 
to," the one inheritance that nobody is in a hurry to pos- 
sess. Lobster salad was alive with horrible nightmares, 
and delirium tremens bubbled in the glass of sparkling 
Moet and Chandon. On all sides his theory was greeted 
with good-humoured derision, and occasioned much merri- 
ment, and though there was little wit, there was much 
laughter among us. At last a living contradiction to his 
theory stepped out from the companion-way in the person 
of a fair-complexioned young Englishman, a perfect 
athlete, broad-chested, strong-limbed, a " crisp and curled 
Antony," brimming over with the healthful vigour and 
vitality of young manhood ; he could run, row, leap, ride, 
and in every manly sport had kept to the fore. 

" Look at me," he said, "7 eat four square meals a day, 
and, perhaps, put more roast beef out of sight than any- 
body here ; but do / look like a wreck ? Just feel my 
biceps." 

" My good fellow," said our theorist, regarding him with 
grave compassionate interest, " you have a good constitu- 
tion ; you are doing your best— but— you have not had 
time to ruin it yet." 

Our vessel carried a hundred and fifty steerage passen- 



ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. 9 

gers, with whom we had many a pleasant chat on the fore- 
castle deck ; some hoped to ply their trade in the cities, 
some were going up the country. " We can get plenty of 
land there, and never a stiver to pay for it," said one burly 
man, with a large family of small children. Somebody 
suggested that the United States offered a wider field and 
less difiiculties. " That may be," he answered, " but I 
don't want to cut myself adrift from the old country ; I 
mean my children and their children after 'em, please God, 
to grow up under the British flag. The stars and stripes 
are very well in their way, but the Union Jack's good 
enough for me." That was the general feeling among the 
emigrant classes ; the vast uncultivated lands of the United 
States might offer better fortune, but they would not cut 
themselves adrift from the " old country." 

Our captain read prayers in the steerage night and morn- 
ing, but we first-class sinners had a religious service on 
Sundays only. Every evening such sailors as were not on 
duty gathered in the forecastle, and the captain gave them 
an extemporaneous sermon, in forcible homely language 
best suited to their comprehension, and allowed them to 
indulge in a goodly sprinkling of Moody and Sankey's 
hymns. It was a -strange and rather a weird scene, that 
narrow forecastle, with bunk« all round, the long oak table, 
lit with tiny oil lamps, flickering up in the swart grimy 
faces of the men, as they united their voices — and with all 
their hearts, or at least with all their lungs — in praises or 
thanksgiving, as they tramped on their " March to Canaan's 
Land " or lingered round the gates of '^ Jersusalem the 
Golden." 



10 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

In a pleasant desultory fashion the eventful days passed 
on, the smallest thing affording us great diversion ; once a 
shoal of porpoises gambolled beside the vessel, tumbling 
and rolling over one another in their fishlike frolics ; then 
a school of whales passed within a quarter of a mile of us, 
uplifting their huge heads, and creating a series of water- 
spouts by the way. Our route was so far north that no 
other vessel had hitherto crossed our path ; we seemed to 
have the sea all to ourselves. One morning the exclama- 
tion went round, "A sail in sight ; " we flew to the bul- 
warks, but nothing was visible to our unaccustomed eyes ; 
we watched, eagerly straining our eyes in the direction in- 
dicated ; by degrees a kind of phantom ship, with all sails 
set, loomed upon our sight ; it seemed to hang suspended 
on the very edge of the world between sea and sky. We 
watched it breathlessly ; but it came no nearer, no clearer. 
Shrouded in mist, like a spectral illusion, it remained a few 
moments in sight, and then disappeared as mysteriously as 
it came, and once more we were alone on the wide deso- 
late sea. That evening we had a splendid sunset ; the 
whole of the western skies were draped with crimson, 
lighted up with flames of gold. We watched its kaleido- 
scopic glories change ; one brilliant colour fading into and 
amalgamating with another, till the whole horizon was a 
gorgeous mass of rose-tinted purple and green and gold, 
which presently broke up, and drifted and re-formed till 
the pale dim skies were filled with floating islands of fire. 
We literally felt as though we were sailing " into the land 
beyond the sunset seas, the islands of the blest." 

On the evening of the eighth day we sighted Father / 



ACROSS THE ATLANTIC. II 

Point, and sent up a rocket to summon a pilot from the 
shore ; three rockets, red, white, and blue, went whizzing 
through the air in answer — " coming." In another mo- 
ment a white light, like a gigantic glowworm came creep- 
ing along the face of the water, nearer and nearer, till 
the plish-plashing of oars brought a cockleshell of a boat 
alongside, and the pilot, with the agility of a cat, climbed 
up the huge black side of the vessel and leapt over the 
bulwarks on to the deck. 

Our pilot embarked, we were soon on our way again. 
After the long uneventful days and nights, the slightest 
occurrence amused and interested us, and that day, to 
our unoccupied minds, seemed crammed with adventures. 
As we paced the deck chatting and laughing, some warb- 
ling or singing snatches of old songs, we were startled by 
the appearance of a huge black mass, w^hich seemed to 
grow mysteriously out of the darkness, with many-coloured 
lights swinging in the empty air. It was the steam-tug 
v/hich had come off from Rimouski for mails and such 
passengers as desired to go on to Lower Canada ; the 
lights swung from the shrouds and rigging of the vessel, 
and shone down with a weird effect upon the bustling 
scene below. There was a general commotion ; impatient 
friends had come on board to meet their relatives ; one 
after another eager faces swarmed over the bulwarks, and 
welcoming exclamations and hearty handshakings and 
embraces followed their appearance ; the pleasant greet- 
ings of the genial happy voices cast a momentary cloud 
over our spirits ; our thoughts flew homeward ; we knew 
it would be long before familiar faces and friendly voices 



12 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

could give us greeting, and we half envied our fellow-pas- 
sengers their welcome to what to us was an unknown 
land. But in the unknown there is always a mysterious 
attraction, and before the little steam-tug was well out of 
sight, we were again buoyantly pacing the deck, with 
never a thought or care beyond the present. It was a 
lovely night ; the stars, such big blazing stars, shone down 
like angel's eyes through the dark-blue sky ; the waves 
sparkled and danced beneath the light of the planet Ju- 
piter, which shone like a baby moon upon the dark face 
of the water. We were all too nervously excited to care 
for rest that night. We lingered long upon the deck, and 
at last disappeared one by one down the companion-way, 
our captain's cheery voice assuring us " we should sight 
Quebec in the morning." 




CHAPTER II. 



QUEBEC 



Land again — A Quaint Announcement — A Gastronomical Exhibi- 
tion — A Pleasant Fireside — The Convent — The Heights of Abra- 
ham — Wolfe's Monument — French and English Canadians. 




HE next day we were up early, and went on 
deck in time to see the first rosy flush break 
from the east, and creep over the cool gray 
dawn. It deepened, and widened, and spread, till the 
golden sun rose slowly and took possession of the pale 
blue skies, casting his lance-like beams to the right and to 
the left, tinging ail things above and below with his heav- 
enly alchemy, but concentrating his light, like a crown of 
glory, on the beautiful city which loomed slowly upon 
our sight out of the shadowy distance. 

With straining eyes we watched to catch the first view 
of Quebec. We had heard of it, read of it, knew of all 
the vicissitudes it had undergone, had looked upon its 
pictured beauty scores of times ; but now the reality was 
before us, and the picturesque beauty of its appearance 
fully realized, if it did not exceed, our expectations. 
How few things in this world ever do that ! Something 
was no doubt owing to the extreme beauty of the morn- 

13 



14 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ing, the clearness of the atmosphere, and the glowing sun- 
light that gilded the tall spires, flecked the sloping house- 
tops, till the china roofs sparkled and flashed like a world 
of broken diamonds. Slowly we steamed up the St. 
Lawrence towards our goal. It was good to see land at 
last. The soft, picturesque river scenery spread like a 
panoramic view on either side of us — luxuriant, grassy 
mounds and meadows came down to the water's edge, 
pretty villages were dotted about here and there, with a 
background of swelling hills, which rose higher and higher 
till they were lost in the pine forests beyond. The dis- 
tant jingle of the church bells broke pleasantly on our 
ears after the long monotonous plish-plashing of the waves. 
On our left rose Pont Levis, a busy place or collection of 
houses, churches and manufactories, creeping up a lofty 
hill almost as imposing to look at as Quebec itself, and 
with a tolerable amount of historical associations too, 
though they have been swallowed up in the more promi- 
nent facts of its more beautiful and picturesque neighbour. 
It was at Pont Levis that the military authorities bided 
their time, and held their discussions and arranged their 
manoeuvres before carrying them into effect ; and it was 
there that General Wolfe waited and chafed impatiently 
for the gray dawn which gave him victory and death. 

We disembarked at Pont Levis, and were ferried across 
the river to Quebec. There our pleasant party drifted 
away in different directions, some going north, some going 
south; there was much handshaking, many good wishes, 
and hopes to meet again. We were very sorry to part 
with our theorist, who, with his delicate young wife, went 



f 



QUEBEC. 15 

on his homeward way to Maine, where we promised to 
pay them a visit before our tour was ended. At the land- 
ing-stage, a forlorn-looking place in a most dilapidated 
condition, we were surrounded by a clamorous crowd of 
Irish and French, who made a raid upon our small bag- 
gage, and struggled manfully as to who should bear it off. 
However, while we were looking helplessly around, we 
were rescued by the timely advent of the hotel proprietor,' 
who, through the thoughtful kindness of our captain, had 
been notified of our arrival, and had come down on the 
look-out for us. He thrust the rabble to the right and to 
the left, handed us into a caleche which he had in waiting, 
and in another moment we were bowling along through 
the lower market-place, on our way to the St. Louis Hotel. 
With reckless speed we rattled up the steep, stony streets, 
the breath almost jostled out of our bodies, and clutching 
one another wildly in our endeavour to keep steady, — on 
across the upper and more aristocratic market-square, 
which is surrounded by large handsome shops, past the 
puritanical-looking Cathedral, a plain, barnlike building 
with a tall tapering spire, and were at length deposited 
safely at the door of the St. Louis Hotel, a commodious 
and comfortable place enough for a temporary resting- 
place. We were at once shown into a room on an upper 
floor, having a beautiful view of the town and river. We 
looked down upon a congregation of towers, turrets, 
steeples, and housetops, with the Laval Museum standing 
out the chief feature below, and the Convent of Gray 
Nuns standing square and gloomy on the hill above. 
Having taken a brief look around, we inquired : 



I 



l6 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

" When does the dinner-bell ring ? " 

" Sure thin, there's no dinner-bell at all ! " answered 
a stout Irish lass. 

*' How shall we know when it is dinner-time ? " 

" Oh, yez'il know; 'e 'oilers." 

She disappeared, leaving us slightly puzzled as to who 
would 'oiler. We waited a few minutes, and then sure 
enough, he did " 'oiler." A pair of stentorian lungs 
shouted through all the corridors, " Dinner ! dinner ! " 
The voice dwindled away, and went wandering in ghostly 
echoes to remote corners and distant chambers, circulat- 
ing the fact in this most primitive fashion that dinner was 
served. Having eaten and drank for the last ten days 
under difficulties, never being quite sure that our soup 
would not find its way into our pockets, or our chicken 
fly into our faces, and obstinately refuse to be driven into 
our mouths, it was pleasant to find ourselves comfortably 
seated at a table that wouldn't turn a somersault on its 
own account, or send the crockery flying about our ears. 
There were specimens of many nationalities at table, with 
a fair sprinkling of the gentle Canadians themselves; and 
here began a gastronomical exhibition. As a rule (of 
course there are exceptions) people did not eat, they 
bolted ; flung their food into their mouths, and sent their 
knives after it to see that it was all right. Seated opposite 
to me was a round, bullet-headed man, like a monk, '' all 
shaven and shorn," with large ears, which seemed to grow 
out of his head, not on it, and a large loose mouth, that 
looked as though it could never tighten, and had no idea 
of ever shutting itself firmly; but oh ! so much went into 



i 



QUEBEC. 17 

it ! He surrounded himself with the whole bill of fare, 
and then " fell to," demolishing one thing after another, 
till I fancied he must have a fit of apoplexy or — burst. 
He handled his eating utensils with such marvellous dex- 
terity, that when his knife flashed in the air and dis- 
appeared down his throat, I watched for it to come out 
at the back of his head ; but no ! it always came back. 
Well, they are used to playing with edged tools this side 
of the water, and provided they do not compel me to join 
the game I am content. 

The next morning we received a visit from the Sanitary 
Inspector (who had been introduced to us when he board- 
ed our vessel for our bill of health). He came accom- 
panied by his wife and daughters on hospitable thoughts 
intent. We were quite at home with one another in half 
an hour, nay in ten minutes, and in their pleasant home 
we spent many evening hours. It was a musical house- 
hold; the young daughters, with fine contralto and mezzo- 
soprano voices, warmed our hearts with some of the sweet 
home songs which we thought we had left behind us. 
Our captain, too, while he was on shore, occasionally drop- 
ped in and enlivened us with the patriotic ditties in which 
our souls delighted. Our mutual favourite was the thrill- 
ing ballad of the '^ Slave Ship." He would bring his 
hand down with a crash upon the ivory keys, and send a 
shrieking shiver through the chords as he triumphantly 
announced : 



" There's always death to slavery 
When British bunting's spread." 



1 8 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

His face beamed as though his individual hand was 
striking slavery dead. When not patriotic he was intensely- 
moral, and the lesson of " Mrs. Lofty's jewels " was so 
vigorously driven into our brain, we ought to have been 
dead to the dazzle of diamonds evermore. 

On the first day of our arrival we sallied forth to see the 
town. The picturesque fascination of its first appearance, 
which took us captive as we first steamed up the St. Law- 
rence, lessened on a closer acquaintance. " Distance 
lends enchantment to the view " in this as in many other 
cases. It is a delightfully old historic city, full of incon- 
gruities, and marvellous in its general aspect of griminess 
and decay. The ancient buildings do not seem to be 
enjoying a hale and strong old age. They have a gray, 
worn look, as though they felt their mournful position, 
and grieved that no hand was outstretched to save them 
from the ruin into which they are fast falling. It seems as 
though time had robed and crowned this quaint old town 
with historic fame and interest, and then turned away and 
left it forlorn and half forgotten ; for it has all the appear- 
ance of a bankrupt estate, with little life or money left in 
it. Its glory has departed, there is no doubt of that, and 
the good folk are trying to destroy its picturesqueness as 
fast as they can. We feel this as we stroll through the 
long straggling up and down streets, their china or slate 
roofs glistening in the sunshine. The houses, some old, 
some new, represent every style of architecture or non- 
architecture under the sun ; no uniformity, no regularity 
anywhere. Some are built of red brick, some of gray 
stone, with odd little latticed windows breaking out in un- \ 



QUEBEC. 19 

expected places. Some modern occupants of ancient 
homes have discarded the tiny twinkling panes, and re- 
placed them with huge squares of plate glass and other 
"modern improvements," marring as much as possible the 
quaint picturesqueness of the old, without imparting the 
imposing aspect of the new. The wooden pavements are 
in a generally rotten condition, and the roads when they 
are not cobble stones are full of ruts, holes, and pitfalls, 
which makes us sigh for Macadam and all his host. 

We pass through the Governor's garden, where a huge 
placard warns " not to pick the flowers." But never a flower 
is in sight ; only a growth of dank, long grass, and a thick 
undergrowth of weeds of the wildest ; they flourish lux- 
uriantly enough. We pick our way over the stony path- 
way, and reach Dufferin Terrace, a splendid promenade, 
which is and will remain for centuries a noble record 
written in stone of Lord Dufferin's administration in 
Canada. It is fifty feet wide and a quarter of a mile long. 
It runs from the fort of the citadel, on the edge of the 
quaint old town, on the one side, and has a wide exten- 
sive land and river view on the other, perhaps one of the 
loveliest views in all Canada, for as far as the eye can see 
on all sides there is a well-wooded landscape of undulat- 
ing hills and valleys dotted with toy villages and tiny 
towns, with the beautiful river lying like a sheet of silver 
below, winding and widening till it seems to fade in the 
far horizon, and is lost in the vast ocean beyond. Lean- 
ing over the fanciful iron railing we look sheer down a 
hundred and twenty feet into Champlain Street, the St. 
Giles of Quebec, and out over the lower town. Here on 



20 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

this splendid terrace the Quebeckers take their evening 
promenade when the sultry day is over, for if there is the 
sHghtest breeze stirring, it is sure to be found here. 
Standing back, at about the centre of the terrace, is the 
monument to "Wolfe and Montcalm," situated in a small 
square plat, "which is a garden called," but which in 
reaUty is like the rest of the public gardens here, a mass 
of tangled weeds and briars. The renowned general him- 
self looks as though he was rather tired of standing there, 
and would gladly descend to that oblivion into which all 
men great and small must sink at last. It is only a ques- 
tion of time. He is doing his best to get away from men's 
eyes, and is crumbling to pieces as fast as he can. Al- 
ready he has no features to speak of, and his clothes are 
crumbling from his back. He has stood there so long that 
few people care to look at him now except strangers, and 
they make such scornful remarks upon his generally 
dilapidated appearance as would make his stony brow 
blush for shame if the stony heart could feel ! Would not 
all great men prefer to live in the memory of their 
countrymen till their names become household words in 
every home rather than be libelled in stone and left to the 
gaze of unborn generations, to whom their deeds or their 
works are as a tale that is told, — long past, half forgotten 
in the greater mass of great works which have succeeded 
them ? 

We are not sorry to turn our backs upon the dismal 
effigy of our hero and get into one of those delightful 
waggons which are the pride of Quebec, easy, light, well 
hung ; while they serve all the purposes of an open car- 



i -i 



QUEBEC. 21 

riage, they shield you most effectually from the sun or the 
rain, being open all round, and provided with stout water- 
proof curtains, which can be drawn or left undrawn at 
pleasure. In the course of half an hour we find ourselves 
on the Plains of Abraham, where we can indulge in a 
little poetic dreaming of our hero, and the days that are 
dead and gone. Standing there and looking round on 
that historic spot it is easy to send our imagination 
travelling back to the gray dawn of that misty morning 
long ago. There are Montcalm's troops encamped around, 
sleeping securely on that lofty and seemingly inaccessible 
height, their dusky Huron and Iroquois allies hanging like 
a ragged fringe upon their rear. Noiselessly and with 
muffled oars Wolfe and his gallant soldiers cross the river 
from Pont Levis, and with catlike silence and agility 
climb the steep sides of the cliff, gaining a foothold wher- 
ever they can, hanging on by straggling bushes or jagged 
edges ; one after another in stealthy silence they creep, 
they swarm upward ; no clink of sword nor clang of 
armour warns the sleeping adversary of their approach, 
till in the gray dawn of the morning they gather, a grim 
and silent army, on the Heights of Abraham in the midst 
of the enemy, who are startled from their sleep. We fancy 
we hear the bugles ring out, and the hurrying to and fro, 
as the dust and fury of the battle begins. It does not last 
long, not very long ; a few hours decides the fate of the 
picturesque old town. Wolfe is wounded ; a gray mass is 
seen flying eastward. " They run, they run ! " a voice is 
heard exclaiming. " Who, who run ? " asks the wounded 
general. " The French, sir." " Thank God ! " he cries. 



22 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

and falls back dead. An obelisk marks the spot where he 
fell. 

Having admired the splendid view from those lofty 
plains, we turn on our way back to the town. The sub- 
urbs of Quebec are very beautiful, being studded with 
elegant villas, surrounded by gardens all abloom with 
bright, sweet-scented flowers, that fill the air with perfume. 
The Foye Road is especially remarkable for its collection 
of palatial residences. Every man appears to be his own 
architect, for each house differs from the other, and all 
are built with more or less originality of design, some 
highly ornamented, others remarkable for their elegant 
simplicity. It would be difficult to classify these dwell- 
ings with any recognized style of architecture. It is 
strange to observe how entirely the French and English 
Canadians keep apart. There is no intercourse between 
the two. On the side of the French, at least, there seems 
to be an undercurrent of the old hostility still flowing, 
though it is never brought actively to the surface, for they 
are a law-abiding, peaceful people ; in their collisions 
with the Irish, it is generally the Irish who make the first 
hostile move. They will not learn English nor allow it to 
be taught in their schools. You may walk for miles 
through this British Colony and never hear the sound of 
your native language ; if you venture to inquire your way 
you will be answered in a kind of French that is not 
spoken in the France of to-day. They cling to the ancient 
French of their forefathers, with no innovations or modern 
improvements. The upper classes of both nations keep - v 
as much aloof from each other as the lower. It is seldom f { 

i 



QUEBEC. 23 

you meet a French family in an English drawing-room, or 
an English family at a French reception ; for those little 
social dissipations do occasionally take place, though, as a 
rule, life seems to flow on in a dull, sluggish fashion in 
this quaint, historic town. Religion is the only thing that 
seems to keep itself lively, for the air bristles with church 
spires, like drawn swords flashing in a holy battle, pointing 
upwards. Week days and Sundays, and, at it seems to 
us, at all times and hours, the bells ring out their musical, 
rhythmical chimes. The Cathedral has a splendid peal of 
bells, which play "The last Rose of Summer" and some 
other EngHsh melodies with exquisite sweetness and pre- 
cision. It was pleasant to hear the old home tunes clang 
out beneath the blue Canadian skies. 

Through the kind interest of our new friends we gained 
entrance to the Convent of Gray Nuns. By a low arched 
doorway we entered a small stone hall, with a staircase on 
one side and a narrow aperture on the other, where the 
face of an aged nun appeared as she received or gave 
messages. We received instructions to go upstairs, and 
went ; we passed locked doors and chambers barren of 
furniture, except, perhaps, a few bare benches ; we could 
find our way nowhere, and after lingering for awhile in 
these empty chambers, haunted by the ghostly echo of our 
own footsteps, a door opened and a voice bade us enter. 
In another moment we had the pleasure of presenting our- 
selves to the reverend mother, who was seated in a light, 
airy room, the first of a semicircle of nuns, who were 
*|saved from contact w^ith us w^orldly folk by a partition of 
wooden railings, which reached from the floor to the ceil- 
\ 



24 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ing. There was no space through which we could even 
shake their saintly hands. Conversation under these cir- 
cumstances was difficult, originality was impossible ; we 
could make no semi-confidential inquiry or insinuating 
remark with those twenty pairs of smiling eyes upon us, 
each keeping guard over herself and her neighbour, and 
all being under the "right eye" of their "Mother Com- 
mander." Any idea we might have entertained of digging 
below the surface and getting a glimpse of conventual life 
perished on the spot. They had evidently no intention of 
extending their favours further. A view of their bare- 
benched chambers and of themselves was considered priv- 
ilege enough. " The secrets of their prison-house " were 
closed from our unhallowed eyes. Once only in living 
memory had the convent been unreservedly thrown open 
to the eyes of the outer world, and that was on the occa- 
sion of the visit of the Princess Louise a few weeks previ- 
ously. Even the simple event of our coming must have 
created some little excitement, for we were advised that 
many of the nuns then present had not seen a face from 
the outer world for forty years until the Princess came 
amongst them. 

In reply to our few commonplace inquiries or remarks, 
they tried eagerly (speaking all at once or echoing one 
another) to assure us of their perfect happiness and con- 
tent, so earnestly indeed as to make us doubt the fact. 
Yet they certainly had a look of peace and content ; not 
the content that is born of the fulness of joy, or is the 
result of a happy, busy, useful life, but the peace that isf 
born of sorrow, or of inward struggles and battles, foughti 



f\ 



QUEBEC. 25 

out in lop^llness and silence ; for human nature robbed 
of her rights will chafe, and struggle, and rebel, till she is 
broken down and taught to waive her rights in this world 
that she may grasp a higher right in the next. For that 
she waits. 

The luxurious comfort and bright, sunny aspect of the 
Father Confessor's chamber (he is the only male allowed 
upon the premises) was a striking contrast to the nuns* 
bare chambers. He was a small, wizened old man, with 
the simplicity of a child. Whether he possessed the " wis- 
dom of the serpent," I query — though how that interesting 
reptile has proved its claim to wisdom I fail to comprehend. 
He showed us his photographs and his sample curiosities 
with as much pride as a child shows its prize picture-book, 
and attached as much importance to the most trifling 
things. He was the proud possessor of the skull of Mont- 
calm, and all that is left of that heroic general grinned at 
us with socketless eyes from beneath a glass case where it 
reposed on a velvet cushion. "Alas ! poor Yorick." He 
pointed out where some teeth had been extracted without 
the aid of dentistry ; they had been stolen by some British 
tourists to whom he had exhibited his treasures. He had 
been spiritual adviser to that world of lonely womanhood 
for forty- five years, and very rarely went abroad. Well, 
we took our last look of him, of our friends, the Dufferin 
Terrace, and the quaint old town, with much regret. We 
had taken our berths on board of one of those palatial 
river steamers, which are indeed like four-story houses 
iifloat, replete with the most luxurious accommodation, 

th balconies running round every story, elegant drawing- 



26 



THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 



rooms for tlie ladies, smoking and billiard-rooms for the 
gentlemen, and a capital cuisine for everybody's benefit. 
Slowly we steamed up the St. Lawrence, keeping our eyes 
fixed upon the gilded spires and steeples of Quebec till 
the haze of distance shrouded them from our view. 







i' 




CHAPTER III. 

MONTREAL. 

The Stolid Indian — Mount Royal — Sir Hugh Allan's Home — The 
Banks— The Windsor Hotel. 

E were roused at a most unearthly hour in the 
morning, the bells were ringing, the engine 
shrieking, panting and struggling like a refrac- 
tory steed who rebels against the will of his rider ; but it 
was brought to a standstill at the landing-stage at Mon- 
treal, and we were turned out only half awake among 
droves of bellowing cattle, bleating sheep, and generations 
of grunting pigs, from the huge sow, half a ton weight, to 
the tiny squeakers a month old. We dodged the horns of 
the cattle and scrambled into the hotel omnibus as best 
we could. Then we took breath and scanned the scene 
around us. All was or seemed to be in a state of " con- 
fusion worse confounded," men and cattle seeming to be 
inextricably mixed together. The shouts of the one and 
the bellowing of the other shook the air, and filled our 
ears with discord. A posse of Indian squaws and " bucks " 
stood leaning along the wharf, watching us with expres- 
sionless eyes and immovable stolidity of countenance, 
iiey might have been statues of bronze for any signs 
; 27 



28 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

they gave of life. If the playful earthquake had paid a sud- 
den visit to the shore and swallowed us up, I doubt if they 
would have moved a finger or quivered an eyelid. They 
all wore ragged red shawls or striped blankets wrapped 
round them, their dark faces and black beady eyes loom- 
ing out from a mass of thick unkempt hair. This was the 
first time the untamed savage on his native soil had crossed 
our path, and I must say they were the most revolting 
specimens of the human race. It is simply impossible to 
regard them as "men and brothers," and the more we 
study the nature, character, and capabilities of these 
people, the more firmly Ave are convinced of that fact. 
Civilization, with its humanizing principles, may struggle 
with the difficulties, but it will never overcome the inborn 
blindness of the savage race. They have not the power 
to comprehend our codes, nor to feel as we feel. Much 
has been said of their treachery and cruelty, but oppres- 
sion creates treachery, and that they have been oppressed 
and hardly used, driven from their native hills and plains 
to a strange world, which is as a sealed book to them, of 
which they neither know the letters or the language, no- 
body can deny. Regarding their cruelty, it is a quality 
native born, and directed not against the white race espe- 
cially ; they are cruel to themselves, to one another, and 
delight in lacerating and torturing their own flesh, regard- 
ing (as did the Spartans of old) the endurance of bodily 
pain as a virtue, courting it as a good rather than avoid!'' 
it as an evil, as we more civilized folk are apt to do. T 
is not meant as an extenuation of the Indian's malpractik c*,-1l 
who in reality only carries out the instincts of his natu 



. 



MONTREAL. 29 

The dog, poor brute, cannot help being mad, but it must 
be got rid of. Looking on these people, with their lo\v 
brows and the animal expression on their expressionless 
faces, we felt there might be some truth in Darwin's theory- 
after all. 

Our Jehu cracked his whip, and his bony steeds began 
to move slowly through the noisy throng. The wharf 
was swarming with a busy population loading and unload- 
ing the many trading vessels which were drawn up by 
the river side. We passed under a crank of squeaking 
pigs, which were being swung through the air and lowered 
on to the deck of the vessel, protesting with all their 
swinish lungs against such unnatural elevation. 

There is a slight rise in the ground as we wind our way 
from the waterside, but on the whole, the city is built on 
a flat, level plain, lying where the St. Lawrence and 
Ottawa rivers meet, stretching av/ay, and widening through 
handsome squares and streets till it reaches the " moun- 
tain." It runs round it, covers its feet with pretty villa 
residences, but never attempts to climb or disfigure its 
green sides with bricks and mortar. There are no building- 
plots to let there, for Montreal is proud of its Mount 
Royal, and keeps it for the pure pride and glory of it. 
Sir Hugh Allan, the head of that splendid line of steam- 
ships bearing his name, has built an elegant and palatial 
residence there at the foot of the mountain. I am by no 
means sure that he has not encroached upon it, and 
planted his greenhouses in its arms, and sent his garden 
^- -jfreeping up its soft velvet sides. But Sir Hugh is a bene- 
actor to the city, a pleasant gentleman, and a great 



30 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

favourite with every class of people ; no doubt if he even 
wanted a slice of the mountain he might have it, especially 
if he was willing to pay handsomely for it. This beauti- 
ful " Mount Royal " is much more than its name indicates. 
It is a perfect sylvan retreat, full of shady groves and 
bosky dells, luxuriant in its growth of wild fruits and 
flowers. Fine trees, with gnarled bark and wide-spread- 
ing, leafy branches, stand here and there in shady groups, 
while whole colonies of birds are singing the summer day 
through. There are whole battalions of nut trees and 
straggling blackberry bushes skirmishing round, each 
struggling to get a sight of the sun, eager to be the first 
to ripen and fall into the hands of the young children 
who come " a blackberrying " in the golden autumn days. 
There is not a single barren spot on the whole mountain ; 
it is one garden of green, with tiny rivulets of living water, 
laughing and gurgling as they fall from its grassy crown 
to its moss-covered feet, which stand on the fringe of the 
city. 

This is not one of the mountains which taxes your 
energies from the beginning, and makes you pay ever- 
lasting toll in the shape of aching limbs and weariness of 
spirit,, using the sun's rays as a kind of airy razor to 
scrape the skin off your face and peel your hands till you 
can scarcely prod its rugged sides with your alpenstock. 
After much trouble and tribulation, with your clothes 
dragged off your back, the result of the hauling process 
common to your guides, you reach the top at last, and 
stand blowing like a grampus on its bald, white heac > 
while you look round upon the wonderfully wide an^^- 



MONTREAL. 3 1 

extensive prospect you have risked so much to see. The 
sun laughs in your face, withdraws his forces into cloud- 
land, and flings a white misty veil over the world below. 
You see nothing but mist, mist everywhere ; your very 
brain seems to get frozen and foggy ; but what does that 
matter ? you come down exulting that you have scaled 
the precipitous mountain. But you will not own, like Sir 
Charles Coldstream, that you found ''nothing in it." 
Well, Mount Royal is not one of these. Like a vain and 
beautiful woman it likes to show itself off to the best 
advantage, and has a capital smooth road, where you can 
either drive in cosy carriages or walk on foot through a 
pleasant winding way, through leafy shade and blooming 
flowers, till you reach the top. You can return by an- 
other road, which lands you about three miles from the 
town. 

The city is never out of sight during the whole progress 
up the mountain. But from one special point, which is 
always indicated to the traveller, there is a remarkably 
fine view of the entire city and its surroundings. There 
is the broad river, studded with green islets, spanned by 
the famous Victoria Bridge, certainly one of the hand- 
somest, and they say the longest and costliest, in the 
world ; beyond it the opposite shore stretches away, break- 
ing into small towns or villages till it is lost in the distance; 
while beneath our feet the city itself lies clearly defined un- 
der the deep-blue skies. The white, gray, or red tiled roofs 
of the houses, church spires, convents, — square and ugly in 
. massive gray stone, — public buildings, and Cathedral tow- 
f,,ers rise out of a forest of green, for the houses generally are 



32 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

surrounded by gardens, and the wide streets are bordered 
on each side by grand old trees, the reUcs of the ancient 
forest, on whose hoary head the city now stands and holds 
its place among the first cities of this Western world. 
The trading portion of the town, where commerce in every 
imaginable form is briskly carried on, is lined with hand- 
some shops, hotels, and banking-houses. As we passed 
by one of the most important of these latter we were 
stopped by a vast crowd, which thronged the doorway and 
surged and overflowed across the street, and effectually 
blocked all progress. A placard was on the door, "Stopped 
payment," and a sea of human faces, waves of excited, des- 
perate passions sweeping over them, surged round us. On 
every side we read signs of wrecked hopes and ruined 
lives. Some, with sullen, despairing faces, went silently 
on their way ; others gesticulated fiercely, with threats and 
curses " not loud but deep." Some hysterical women were 
in tears ; others crept out of the crowd with white, wan 
faces, broken down and crushed utterly ; they had no 
voice even to complain or bemoan. Gradually we made 
our way through this mass of miserable people, and went 
on through the populous streets, across fine squares, past 
handsome monuments, all of which are kept in perfect 
order and neatness. In the centre of the square which 
bears her name stands a splendid statue of Queen Victoria 
robed and crowned — you find her picture or her bust 
among the most cherished household gods of every family. 
Everywhere in this beautiful city there are delightful 
promenades ; on either side of the spacious streets are e\e-y 
gant villa residences, with tastefully arranged gardens, a)re. 
light, fanciful railing only separating them from the footway,! 



MONTREAL. 33 

and sometimes not even that. You may enjoy a perfect 
feast of the beauty and perfume of flowers as you saunter 
beneath the trees which border the footway, their over- 
hanging branches forming a perfect shade and bower of 
green. Here, as in many other Canadian cities, three- 
fourths of the population are Catholics, and their churches 
and Cathedral are among the finest architectural buildings 
in the city, where churches of all denominations abound. 
Christ Church Cathedral (Episcopal) is, they say, the 
finest specimen of English Gothic architecture in America. 
It is built of Caen and Montreal stone. From the centre 
of the cross rises a spire 224 feet high; the choir stalls are 
splendidly carved, and the nave is supported by columns 
carved in imitation of Canadian plants ; but an adequate 
description of the churches, convents, or museums, here 
and elsewhere, would each require a volume to itself, and 
those who require that special kind of information will 
find it in every local guidebook. Going the general 
round of these places forms no part of my programme. 
Such special descriptions are only needed for special 
objects, and nine cases out of ten are both wearisome and 
uninteresting. In their Continental experiences people 
rush through miles of picture galleries, and visit scores of 
churches, believing it to be their duty so to do, but at the 
end of the day few have a distinct impression of any per- 
fect thing. The mind reflects only a confused mass of 
gorgeous colouring, stained glass windows, groined roofs 
and arches, all mixed up together, and when they sit 
Uown to think things over it is with the greatest difficulty 
they summon one distinct picture before their mind's 
ye. 



34 



THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 



Last though not least among the attractions of Mont- 
real, is the number of its commodious hotels, among 
which the Windsor stands pre-eminent. It is built at the 
highest point of the city, under the shadow of the moun- 
tains, and for comfort and luxurious appointments is 
second to none, either on this side of the Continent or on 
the other. The charges here, as in all other first-class 
hotels, vary from two and a half to five dollars per day, 
inclusive, according to location of rooms. This is most 
moderate when compared with our home charges, where 
the extras and sundries swell the bill till it is ready to 
burst with its own extortions. 




■' 4 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE CAPITAL OF THE DOMINION. 

River Travelling — Trail of the Fire King — Ottawa — Parliament 
Buildings — The City — The Home of our Princess. 




HE journey from Montreal to Ottawa is for the 
most part dull and uninteresting. We have 
half an hour's train through a rough, ragged 
country, laden with straggling bushes, rank grass, and 
charred tree stumps ; then we take the boat and steam 
along the river, a broiling sun overhead and flat barren 
country on either side. There being nothing attractive or 
interesting in the surrounding scenery, I betake myself to 
the general saloon, which is a perfect bazaar, with knick- 
knackeries of ail kinds, and books and newspapers for 
sale. I invest a dollar in litera.ture of the lightest kind 
and ensconce myself on the most comfortable lounge I 
can find, and in rather a limp drowsy state try to keep 
myself awake. 

My companion, aglow with the delights of travelling, 

rejoices in the inconveniences thereof, and sits broiling in 

the sun, which seems inclined to have no mercy upon 

anybody. It glares down with its fierce, fiery eye, breath- 

r ing a hot sultry breath over everything everywhere. The 

35 



36 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

land on either side is a plain of brown dried-up grass ; a 
few lean, hungry cattle are straying hither and thither, 
browsing on the dry breast of mother earth. Brown bare- 
legged children wade into the river ; some cast off their 
rags and leap in, splashing about, laughing as they play 
at " catch-who-can." When they are tired they come out 
and lay themselves out to dry in the sun. The water has 
a sultry, sleepy look. It is as clear and still as a glass 
mirror, but we Avake it into fury as our iron steed tramps 
through it ; it hisses and runs after us, snarling with its 
white foam lips as it closes in our wake, and under the 
blazing sun our vessel steams on. The deck blossoms 
with umbrellas, which look like gigantic toadstools grow- 
ing out of scores of human heads. Some put cabbage- 
leaves in their hats and hang silk handkerchiefs down their 
backs, as a kind of protection from the sun's keen rays ; 
but they will not sit down ; they wander in and out of the 
saloon, like evil spirits that can know no rest ; they like to 
get bronzed with the sun and sultry air, and as a rule are 
not satisfied till the skin peels off their faces and the tips 
of their noses require a bag for protection. I lean back 
on my luxurious lounge in a rather sleepy state, and am 
fast drifting away into a land of dreams, when I am roused 
by the loud prolonged sound of the dinner-gong, and we 
all crowd down, helter-skelter, to the dining saloon, where 
our captain, a big burly man, sits at the head of the table, 
with sundry roasts and fancy dishes smoking before him. 
We speedily spoil our appetites, and leave but a mere 
wreck of bare bones and skeletons. One dish contains 
Indian corn cobs about a quarter of a yard long, looking 



THE CAPITAL OF THE DOMINION. 37 

white and tempting with their granulated covering. Be- 
heving they are some stuffed deUcacies, I ask for a small 
piece, A smile goes round, and I receive a whole one on 
my plate. What am I to do with it ? I glance at my 
neighbours. Every one is holding a cob with his two 
hands, and, beginning at one end, nibbles along as though 
he were playing a flute till he gets to the other, repeating 
the process till the cob is stripped of its pearly corn. I 
don't think it is worth the trouble of eating, though it is 
considered a great dainty on this side of the Atlantic. 

About two o'clock we reach Carrillon. The rapids bar 
our progress up the river ; a train runs alongside the ves- 
sel ; we are soon seated in a comfortable car, and have a 
two hours' railway journey through what was once a mag- 
nificent forest, but is now wild waste land, a terrible fire 
having swept over it some few years ago, destroying and 
devouring all before it — farm-houses, flocks, all animate 
and inanimate things — leaving here and there groups of 
tall spectral trees, standing weird and ghostly in the sum- 
mer sun. Here it had feasted greedily and left nothing 
but charred roots and fantastic tree stumps straggling 
over the ground. One spot on the line of that terrible 
fire was pointed out to me as having once been a flourish- 
ing farm ; but the fire fiend swept down upon it in the 
night, when the inhabitants were all in their beds asleep. 
The man rushed out with his wife and child and crouched 
down in a potato field, trusting that the storm of fire might 
pass over them ; but the red-tongued flames came leaping 
along and drove them into the river, and all night long he 
stood up to his neck in water, supporting his wife and 



38 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

child. The great white moon shone out serene and peace- 
ful in the calm blue skies. Not a breath of air was stir- 
ring, not a sound was heard but the tramp of the fire king 
as he roared on his blazing way. In the morning they 
were saved, but the terrible flames had licked the life out 
of all wayfarers who had barred its progress, and left their 
blackened skeletons grinning in the sun. After a rush of 
two hours through this weird, wild scene, we reach Gren- 
ville. There we take boat again and steam on till we find 
ourselves at Ottawa, about six o'clock in the evening. 

The approach to this city, the capital of the Dominion 
of Canada, is by no means imposing ; the face of the river 
is covered and its mouth filled with sawdust ; it is stifled, 
and has scarcely strength to flow, it could not burst into a 
smile, or ripple under the most tempting of summer suns. 
Immense booms of timber, which have been floated down 
from the " forest primeval " hundreds of miles away, float 
still on the river surface till they are hauled up to feed 
the hungry mills, mechanical giants, whose rasping jaws 
work day and night crushing these sturdy " sons of the 
forest," cutting them in slices and casting them forth to 
be stacked in huge piles along the river-banks miles before 
we reach the town. There is no bustle or confusion on 
our arrival there. On the quiet little landing-stage two or 
three lumbering vehicles are waiting ; we are escorted to 
one of these by our chivalrous captain, who carries our 
hand baggage, and superintends the removal of the rest. 
A little girl, about ten years old, follows us, with a dog al- 
most as big as herself, and looks up at us shyly. 

" My little lass, ladies," observes our captain, his face 



THE CAPITAL OF THE DOMINION. 39 

wrinkling and his eyes twinkling with smiles ; " she comes 
down every evening to 'meet father.' It wouldn't seem 
like coming home if I didn't find Nellie here." 

With a proud fatherly air he takes the child's hand, the 
dog trotting behind them as they ascend the stony hill to- 
wards a gray cottage of rough-hewn slate, which he has 
pointed out to me as "hom.e." We turn on towards our 
destination in Nepean Street, where we find ourselves so 
comfortably located, that instead of staying a few days, as 
we originally intended, we resolve to remain some weeks. 

Through the good offices of Mr. Leggo, a popular and 
most enthusiastic Canadian, we nfade the acquaintance of 
Lieutenant-Colonel Dennis, one of the oldest pioneers of 
the state. Those gentlemen were like animated encyclo- 
pjEdias on all matters regarding Canada ; from them we 
received more information in a few weeks than we could 
have gained on our own account in a year. 

Our first day in Ottawa was spent in visiting the Parlia- 
ment buildings, which occupy a plateau of about thirty 
acres on the loftiest point of the city and nearly two hun- 
dred feet above the Ottawa River ; they are surrounded 
by beautifully laid out gardens, and seem to be growing 
out of a bed of soft greensward of velvet smoothness. 
They are composed of cream-coloured Potsdam stone, the 
ornamental part being of Ohio and Arupois marbles ; they 
are built in the Italian Gothic style of the thirteenth cen- 
tury, and I am told they are the most beautiful specimens 
thereof in all America, perhaps in the world. Their ele- 
vated position, with their long lines of pointed windows, 
massive buttresses, and numerous pinnacles and towers, 



40 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

silhouetted against the bright blue sky, are objects of im- 
posing and majestic beauty for miles around. In the front 
centre stands the Victoria Tower, one hundred and eighty 
feet high, and surmounted by an iron crown. The chief 
entrance to the building is through the broad-pointed 
arches beneath this tower ; the royal arms are above the 
doorway ; in the grand Senate Hall there is a very beau- 
tiful statue of the Queen, and the vice-regal throne is 
flanked by busts of the Prince of Wales and the Princess 
Alexandra. In the most remote, as well as in the most 
populous districts, the features of the royal family are 
duly represented. The Canadians are the most loyal of 
all British subjects ; they lower their voices with solemn 
reverence when they speak of '^ Her Majesty, the Queen," 
to whom they never refer as "the Queen," pure and sim- 
ple ; they give her a whole string of titles and adjectives, 
like the tail of a paper kite, and set her sailing in the 
heaven of their imagination, as though she were beyond 
the range of humanity altogether. They seem to regard 
royalty, not as an upper branch of the human family, but 
as a higher and holier species ; any adverse or quizzical 
criticism of them or their doings would be met with severe 
reprimand, if not positive maltreatment. We cannot help 
wondering how the loyalty of the Canadian people man- 
ages to exist, for it has been half-starved, or fed only upon 
the crumbs flung from the state table. It must have lived 
on its own robust strength or the clinging patriotic spitit 
of the Canadian nature, rather than from any consider- 
ation or care it has received from the home government . 
It is certainly the most beautiful, the most fertile of th e 



THE CAPITAL -OF THE DOMINION. 41 

British colonies, and lies nearest to the mother land 
though it seems farthest from her care. 

Much has been said, much has been written on the 
subject of Canada ; we have learned its geographical 

position, the length and breadth of its lakes and rivers, 
the extent of its vast forest lands, the height of its moun- 
tains, etc., but the figures dazzle the mind, and bring no 
realization of the fact. Nothing less than a personal visit 
will enable us to comprehend the wonders of this luxuriant 
land, which is surrounded and encompassed with its own 
loveliness. The primeval forest still holds its own in the 
vast solitudes, sacred as yet from the increasing encroach- 
ments of man, its immense inland seas, and fruitful rivers 
winding through scenery the most picturesque, the most 
sublime ; to say nothing of its vast unexplored lands and 
mineral resources, and the wide tracts of rich uncultivated 
country, watered by springs and rivulets which have been 
flowing in their living liquid beauty since the days of 
Paradise. "We hear sad tales of poverty and misery in the 
old land, of scanty crops, wasted labour, and mined 
farmers, who, after all, are only tenants on the land they 
live on ; the small farmer who labours there, on another 
man's land, may here become a land-owner. There is no 
room for great farming operations or agricultural enter- 
prise in the limited cultivated land of the old country, 
every rood of which is occupied ; there is no room for 
new comers, — the great tide of human life, which is rising 
every hour, must roll on towards the great cities, and per- 
haps starve there, for each city is filled with its own 
people, who work at their different trades, and in their 

( 



42 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

turn overflow into the country, drifting, heaven knows 
where. There is small chance of rural folks gaining their 
bread in the old land. Here in the New World there are, 
not thousands, but millions of acres of rich fertile soil 
waiting for the magic pick and the ploughsnare to turn it 
to a veritable " Tom Tidler's ground ; " only scatter the 
seed on its broad fair breast, and it will pulsate with a 
new life and swell the seeds with its own fulness till they 
burst and blossom into a wealth of golden grain, and " the 
hand of the sower gathereth a rich harvest." 

The governing powers, in their desire to get the 
country well populated, are willing to make most liberal 
terms to forward this object. They are ready to give a 
grant in perpetuity of one hundred and sixty acres to all 
or any who are willing to make a home there, with the 
power, of course, of extending their possessions as their 
means increase. There is an abundance of wood for 
building purposes, the rivers and lakes teem with fish in 
great variety, and the earth gives forth such a variety of 
wild fruits, strawberries, raspberries, grapes, gooseberries, 
and huge trees of red luscious plums, and butternuts, we 
feel that in summer-time, at least, we could live as the 
birds do, on sunshine and sweet fruits. 

We had heard much of the extremes of temperature, of 
heat and cold, especially in Ottawa, and prepared our- 
selves for broiling ; well, it was warm, the sun blazed, the 
hot winds blew, and the dust of this most dusty cit}^ 
whirled and swirled around us, got into our eyes, our ears,, 
crept insidiously down our throats, and seemed struggling 
to turn us inside out ; but we clutched our mantles around 



THE CAPITAL OF THE DOMINION. 43 

US, and butted against the wind, screening ourselves from 
the sun's fierce rays as best we could. It is not often 
that the sun and the wind have such a tussle together. 
However, we reached home at last in an uncooked state, 
feeling not much warmer than we should do on a summer 
day at home, though the temperature is much higher, and 
the hours are marching to the tune of 90° in the shade. 
We had spent the whole day in wandering and driving 
about the streets of Ottawa, till we gained a very good 
idea of its external appearance. It has numerous fine 
churches, and its town hall, post office, and all the muni- 
cipal buildings are substantially and massively built in an 
attractive and fanciful style of architecture. As for the 
rest of the city, it is in a perfectly unfinished state ; it is 
as yet only a thing of promise, though it has the making 
of a very fine town in the future ; but however fast it 
marches, it will have to keep growing, and work hard too, 
for another century at least, before it reaches the level of 
its magnificent Parliament buildings. The streets are 
wide and long, stretching away out of sight ; they are 
cobble-stoned and roughly wood-paved for the most part. 
After passing the principal lines of shops in Sparkes 
Street, the houses seem to have been built for temporary 
convenience only, and crop up here and there in a direct 
line, leaving wide spaces of waste land between, as though 
they were in a hurry to see which should reach the end of 
the long street first, the end that-seems to be creeping 
back to the primeval forest, which civilization and time 
has left far behind. 

Ottawa itself is neither picturesque nor attractive, being 



44 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

built on perfectly flat ground. It looks like a timber 
yard, and smells of sawdust. The Ottawa river has as 
many long thin arms as an octopus, and they run meander- 
ing inland by a hundred different ways ; here, they meet 
in a vast tumbling mass, falling over huge boulders and 
broken stony ground till they are dignified by the name 
of the '' Chaudiere Falls ; " lower down, their headlong 
course is stopped, and they are utilized and made to turn 
a huge sawmill where a thousand steel teeth are biting 
through the grand old trees, tearing them into slips, 
digesting and disgorging them on the other side ; in vain 
the water foams and groans, crashing its rebellious waves 
together — man is its master, and will have his way. Just 
over the bridge is an extensive match factory, employing 
six hundred children from six to twelve years old, swarm- 
ing on all sides like busy little ants, measuring, cutting, 
dipping, and filling the boxes as fast as their tiny hands 
can move. There is, on the opposite side, a pail and tub 
factory, all for exportation ; long galleries, filled with tubs 
and pails from floor to ceiling, enough to scrub the world 
clean, and turn it inside out and begin again on the other 
side. 

Rideau Hall, the home of our Princess, lies on the out- 
skirts of the town, and is by no means a regal-looking 
mansion ; it is a long low building of gray-stone, standing 
on rather elevated ground, and has a pleasant view of 
the town and river from the lawn and flower garden, 
which encloses two sides of it ; the approach is through 
tolerably well timbered grounds, not of sufficient import- 
ance to be called a "park." The Governor and Princessi 



THE CAPITAL OF THE DOMINION. 45 

Louise were away, and the house was undergoing repair — 
it looked as though it needed it. There was nothing to 
distinguish this from any second or third-rate country 
house at home, except the one soHtary and rather seedy- 
looking sentinel who paraded before the door. The people 
of Ottawa speak most enthusiastically of our Princess ; 
every one has some kind memory or pleasant anecdote to 
tell of her. It is said that when Her Royal Highness 
held her first reception, she appeared in a plain high 
dress, expecting, perhaps, to find fashion " out of joint " 
in this far-away place ; but the Canadian ladies came 
trooping " en grand toilette," with fans and diamonds, 
trains and laces, like living importations from Worth 
himself. At the next reception matters changed, and the 
royal lady appeared in all the splendour of the British 
Court receptions. 





CHAPTER V. 




FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 

On the Train— The Thousand Islands— At Kingston— Toronto — 
The Government House — Arrival of the Princess Louise — "We 
expect the Moon " — Niagara Falls. 

ROM Ottawa to Toronto is a tedious journey, 
in consequence of the many changes, from rail 
to river, river to rail again. The train is wait- 
ing for us as we reach the station ; it is a hot, sultry morn- 
ing, the warm air, sand-laden, comes in short, fitful gusts 
and is stifling rather than refreshing ; the sun blazes 
down from a copper-coloured sky — everything is sun- 
dried, sun-baked ; the city glows like an oven ; the stony, 
shadeless streets reflect the burning rays, and blind the 
eyes with their white dazzling light ; one might cook eggs 
upon the housetops, and set bacon to frizzle in the sun. 
It is an undertaking to cross the blank space from the 
omnibus to the platform, many a sunstroke has been got 
with less provocation. In a limp, dusty condition, tired 
before the day has well begun, we take the first vacant 
seats we come to— there is little choice, for the car is half 
full already, and more people come trooping in, till it is 
filled to overflowing with a miscellaneous mass of humui- 

46 



FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 47 

ity of all sorts, sexes, and sizes : there are women with 
babies, women with bundles, and baskets of fruit, crockery, 
and cabbages ; two elderly ladies, in corkscrew curls, 
carrying a pet cat in a basket and huge bunches of flow- 
ers, come timidly in, smiling and giving a recognizing nod 
to everybody with the information that they "have not 
been in a train for twenty years, and consequently are a 
little nervous." Hobbledehoys trample on our skirts, and 
stumble over our feet, and one young tourist, evidently 
got up by his tailor in stereotyped tourist fashion, for his 
first outing, struggles into the car under a weight of walk- 
ing-sticks and fishing-tackle, and commences operations 
by fishing my hat off, and in the confusion of disentangle- 
ment and blushing apologies, all his belongings come rat- 
tling about my ears. The bell rings, the train moves 
slowly ; everything moves slowly in Canada — whether it 
is that the red tape stretches from the mother country and 
ties their hands, or public spirit languishes, or private en- 
terprise is sleeping, it is difficult to say. The Canadians 
are a most loyal, kind, and hospitable people. Conserva- 
tive too, with the nvorst kind of conservatism, they are 
content with things as they are, and so long as matters go 
smoothly in the old grooves, they will not trouble to make 
new tracks. They want waking up ; if they were once 
possessed with the restless, ambitious, go-ahead spirit of 
the United States, they would soon be even with them ; 
at present, they are a century behind. 

We rattle along through a not especially interesting 
country ; here and there we come upon undulating wood- 
lands, with pretty farmhouses lying amid their cultivated 



48 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

lands ; but there are whole acres lying idle of rich land, 
which has only to be tickled with a ploughshare and fed 
with a scanty meal of grain, and it is ready to burst into 
laughing fields of golden torn ; meanwhile masses of 
gaudy weeds flaunt their flags in the sun, and straggling 
brushwood spring aggressively from the ground, and such 
a glorious growth of thistles as would delight a race of 
donkeys — no better could be found anywhere. Mean- 
while we amuse ourselves, each according to his or her 
fancy. One woman sucks oranges all the way, another 
'' clucks " and makes zoological noises to amuse her re- 
bellious offspring ; the young tourist looks unutterably 
bored, and plays the " devil's tattoo " on the window ; 
somebody perfumes the car with the odour of peppermint 
drops. The old ladies enter into a conversational race, 
and discuss their private affairs in a most audible voice, 
taking the whole car into their confidence.. We catch 
snatches of a domestic tragedy, blithely borne by the chief 
sufferer, who dwells upon every revolting detail with great 
gusto, as though she revelled in the telling ; next to en- 
joying other people's miseries, some people love to gloat 
upon their own, the excitement following the tragedy over- 
powering the tragedy itself. Every time the train stops, 
as it does with a jerk, they clutch each other wildly, and 
pelt everybody with questions, " AVas it a collision ? " or 
" had the boiler burst ? " During their excitement the 
cat wriggles out of the basket, and a general scrimmage 
ensues before the poor beast can be recaptured. 

At ten o'clock we reach Prescott, and there take the 
boat for Kingston, hoping to catch the four o'clock tirain 



FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 49 

for Toronto. Our luggage is soon aboard, and in the 
course of a few minutes we are seated under an awning 
on the deck of a palatial river boat ; here the river broad- 
ens and joins the Lake Ontario. We rejoice at leaving the 
dusty train and baking city behind, and set ourselves to 
enjoy the fresh genial breeze, and watch for the first 
glimpse of the thousand islands. We are soon in their 
midst. It is like a dream of fairyland — the perfect day, 
warm sunny atmosphere, and fresh cool breeze dimpling 
the face of the water ; the luxuriant islands, as we thread 
our way among them, seem to be floating with us — they 
are everywhere, before, behind, and around ; some are 
large, some small ; some are inhabited only by waterfowl, 
some by men of literary and artistic taste, who make their 
summer home there ; but they are all clothed in a luxuri- 
ant growth of green, trailing low down to the water's edge, 
white willow and silver birch coquetting with their own 
shadows fluttering on its surface. After a few delicious 
lotus-eating hours' floating on this romantic world of land 
and water, we reach Kingston just in time to miss the 
train — everybody misses that train, it is a delusion and a 
snare, nobody was ever known to catch it, even by acci- 
dent. I believe the captains and hotel-keepers are in 
collusion to keep the tourist in Kingston for the night. 
The best hotel. The British American, has poor accommo- 
dation, the table being ill-served and the viands ill-cooked. 
We brought splendid appetites to bear on greasy chops, 
tough steaks, and soup so weak it had scarcely strength to 
struggle down our throats. The meals were served at 
most unearthly hours — dinner at twelve, supper at five 
3 



50 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

o'clock. It is a large, old-fashioned town, with a capital 
fruit and vegetable market in its centre, and fine houses 
with walled-in gardens ; the tallest and gaudiest flowers 
sometimes climbed up and took a peep at the world out- 
side : a good old-world city, wrapped up in itself and its 
people ; no doubt comfortable enough to Hve in, but no 
attractive features to interest the passing stranger. It 
seems to be an isolated, self-centred place, with nothing 
to do with the present and no stirring associations with 
the past. We were not sorry to find ourselves in the four 
o'clock train en route for Toronto, The cars were clean, 
and not overcrowded ; boys came along, peddling books, 
papers, hot cake, rich ripe fruit, and " real English wal- 
nuts." We were tired, and lounged back in our seats, 
watching the panoramic landscapes fly past us, and listen- 
ing to the sweet voices of two young Canadian girls who 
were singing hymns, nearly all the way. Towards eight 
o'clock there was a stop of twenty minutes for supper, 
and a capital supper we got — salmon, trout, cutlets, 
sausages, fruit, coffee, iced milk, and all for the modest 
sum of fifty cents ! 

The sun sets in a glory of crimson, purple, and gold, 
fading and changing, one colour amalgamating with an- 
other, till the western skies are dressed in gorgeous crim- 
son plumes, and the lake is illuminated, glowing red in 
the reflected light, and the opposite shore seems veiled in 
the purple mist of dreamland. Slowly the twilight falls, 
the moon rises, and presently we are speeding by full 
moonlight along the shores of the Lake Ontario. 

It was nearly midnight when the lights of the Ci'ty of 



FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 5 1 

Toronto loomed upon our sight. Our engine bell began 
its musical ding-dong as we slackened and steamed slowly 
into the station, and soon we were on our way to our 
hotel. Thanks to the deHghtful baggage system here, as 
all over the United States, luggage is no trouble to its 
owner. The arrangement is simple enough : your luggage 
is taken from your house by the expressman, who checks 
it to your destination wherever that may be, giving you 
little brass numbered checks in return ; a similar check is 
strapped on each of your boxes. About an hour before 
you reach your journey's end, an express agent boards the 
train ; you give up your checks, and tell him w^here to 
send your luggage. On your arrival, or very soon after, 
you find it there ; there is a specified charge for each 
package. The loss of passengers' luggage is unknown ; 
and by this easy arrangement, much loss of time, trouble, 
and temper is saved. You may carry as much as you 
please, and from the time you leave England it is no 
trouble to you, until you return to Liverpool, — then your 
vexations begin anew. 

We put up at the Queen's Hotel, about three minutes 
drive from the station, and facing the lake, though it 
stands back a few hundred yards from it. We found it a 
luxurious hotel and perfect home, being an extensive but 
not a monster hotel, large enough for the most complete 
arrangements, but not too large to be comfortable. It is 
three or four stories high, and has a balconied and veran- 
dahed front with pretty climbing plants trailing among 
the lattice work. The Governor, Mr. Macdonald, and 
his two charming daughters, at that time had a suite of 



52 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

apartments here, having vacated the Government house 
for the occupation of the Princess Louise and the Marquis 
of Lome, who were expected in a day or two to open the 
Dominion Exhibition. Toronto was much excited on 
the occasion. The Misses Macdonald took great interest 
and dehght in beautifying their already beautiful home, 
for the reception of their royal guests. The day before 
the arrival we accompanied them on a last visit of inspec- 
tion to see that every arrangement was complete, and add 
any little finishing touches their refined taste might con- 
sider necessary. 

The Government house is a massive square stone 
building, approached by handsome iron gates, and is 
surrounded by tastefully laid out flower gardens, soft 
velvety lawn, fanciful conservatories and green-house filled 
with rare exotics. We get the key from the head gardener, 
and enter the house : there is no sign of life, not a creat- 
ure is visible ; we saunter through the corridors, up the 
stairs, and through the vacant chambers, attended only by 
our own shadows ; our tread falls noiselessly on the soft 
carpet ; once or twice a door slams, and an echo wakes up 
and tries to follow us, but is smothered by the way. The 
rooms are all in perfect order, prettily arranged, fresh, 
airy, and beautifully clean, not a speck of dust is to be 
seen anywhere ; everything seems to be in a waiting stage 
— eider-down beds, spring mattresses all bare, waiting to 
be made ; wardrobes waiting to be filled ; fires waiting to 
be kindled. There is no sign of silver or linen anywhere. 
We inquire, "Why is this?" and learn, that wh^n the 
Princess travels, like some visitors to the sea-side at^t.ome, 



FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 53 

she finds her own plate and linen ! The royal servants 
are expected to take possession every minute ; as we are 
leaving the house, they are beginning to arrive with the 
baggage in advance. Meanwhile the city is all agog with 
expectation, people come flocking in from all parts of the 
Dominion. The hotels and refreshment houses are full to 
overflowing ; eager sight- seers throng the streets ; we enjoy 
our gape among the rest. It is a pretty bright town, with 
long wide straight streets, bordered on either side with 
fine old trees, — a striking contrast to the blank stony 
aspect of Ottawa, — and is calculated to shovv^ off at the 
best advantage on such a festive occasion as this. Tri- 
umphal arches, covered with a glory of green, bright- 
coloured flags, and wondrous devices, span the streets on 
every side ; we come upon troops of merry children sing- 
ing " The Campbells are coming," " Rule Britannia," and 
" God save the Queen," with all the might of their strong 
young lungs ; great is the excitement of the child-world — 
they are to muster ten thousand strong to greet the 
Princess on her arrival to-morrow. 

We are roused early in the morning by a general hub- 
bub and a conflicting choir of young voices, and look 
from our window upon a transformation scene. The 
whole space between our hotel and the railway, at which 
point the royal party are to alight, is cleared of lumber, 
and newly swept and garnished ; and on either side, rising 
one above another, rows of seats have been erected to 
accommodate ten thousand children, leaving between 
them a wide avenue for the progress of the vice-regal 
party. The children are already beginning to assemble ; 



54 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

they are all dressed in light colours, generally in white, 
with broad gay-coloured sashes, worn crosswise from the 
shoulder, each school wearing a different color, and having 
its own special flag fluttering over it. At first the schools 
seem to be all mixed together in inextricable confusion ; 
teachers and trainers dash frantically about, gathering 
tlieir wandering flocks together ; but long before the slow 
swinging engine bell heralds the approach of the royal 
party, each school occupies its proper space and all is in 
order. From our balcony we watch the train come wrig- 
gling like a great black snake into the station. We are 
not near enough to distinguish faces, but a company of 
gayly dressed midgets seem to slip out upon the platform, 
and stand silent in the sunshine. There is a momentary 
lull. We look down the long lines of children's faces, ris- 
ing tier upon tier ten thousand strong ; they are so arranged 
that their colours blend harmoniously together, they look 
like an animated flower garden ; a wave of excitement 
sweeps over them, suddenly ten thousand snowflakes seem 
fluttering in the air, ten thousand hands are waving tiny 
white handkerchiefs ; the choir of distant voices begin to 
sing " The Campbells are coming, Hurrah ! hurrah ! " and 
soft as the sound of an echo, the old familiar air reaches 
our ears, swelling louder and louder as it is caught up by 
one section after another, nearer and nearer, till the 
whole ten thousand voices fill the air with one great vol- 
ume of sound. Meanwhile the newly arrived visitors pro- 
gress slowly along the avenue, and " God save the Queen " 
and " Rule Britannia " follow in quick succession, the 
children's voices quickening to a race, so eager are they to 



FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 55 

finish before the Princess is out of hearing. As she 
reaches her carriage, there is a clapping of hands and 
roar of welcome ; but she keeps in the background, leav- 
ing all the honour and glory to her husband, the Governor- 
General of^the Dominion. Troops of rifles, and engi- 
neers line the streets, and a general festivity takes posses- 
sion of the city ; squibs, crackers and illuminations finish 
up the day. 

The short time we are able to devote to Toronto passes 
too quickly ; everybody is hospitably inclined, and every 
day there are luncheons, kettledrums, or dinners to be 
attended : all are strictly arranged on the " home " princi- 
ple ; in fact the people here are more English than we are 
ourselves, and scrupulously avoid any peculiarity of the 
adjoining states, — you may hear Americanisms in Lon- 
don, but never in Canada. The people are lavish in their 
liberality, but the city carries its economy farther than 
we care to follo\? it. On our way to a friend's house one 
evening, we found the town wrapped in darkness ; we 
could neither see the names of the streets nor the num- 
bers of the houses ; we lost ourselves, and at last came 
upon a dark gray figure carrying a bull's-eye — it was a 
policeman, who courteously convoyed us to our destination. 

" You see, ladies," he said, apologizing for the Cim- 
merian darkness of his beloved city, " the moon is 
expected, and we never light the streets when we expect 
the moon ! " So when the moon is on duty the gas- 
works have a holiday. Toronto is beautifully situated 
amid stretches of well- wooded cultivated land, and spreads 
its wide skirts along the shore of Lake Ontario, where 



56 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

there should be a splendid promenade — but is not ; for 
between the lake and the tall rows of handsome houses 
the, railway runs close down along the water's edge, mar- 
ring the prospect with its array of ugly sheds and cattle 
pens, while heavy goods trains are shunting a#id shrieking 
in the face of the town from morning till night : thus the 
opportunity of making one of the finest promenades in 
the Dominion is lost. From Toronto we steam across the 
lake to the village of Niagara, where a train is waiting to 
carry us on to the falls about half an hour further on. 
We all watch from the windows, eager to catch our first 
glimpse of the world's great wonder. 

I quote from my companion's note-book on the spot. 
*' There was a break in the wood, a flash of white, a cloud 
of spray tossed high above the tree-tops ; then the dark 
woods closed again. That glimpse, flashing upon us and 
passing before we could fully realize that the great tum- 
bling mass was indeed Niagara, can hardly be called our 
first view of it. . . .It was dark when we reached the 
Clifton house ; the roar of the falls filled our ears, we 
stepped out upon the balcony, and there was a sight we 
can never forget. It was a moonless night, and in the 
dusk we could only obscurely trace the vast vague outline 
of the two falls, divided by the blurred mass of shapeless 
shadows which we learned was Goat Island. As we 
looked upon them silently, and listened to the ceaseless 
boom like distant thunder, which shook the ground be- 
neath our feet, across the snowy veil of the American Fall, 
to our left, shot rays of rosy light, which melted into am- 
ber, then into emerald. They were illuminating the great 



FROM CITY TO CATARACT. 57 

waters with coloured calcium lights ! In whose benighted 
mind rose the first thought of dressing Niagara up like a 
transformation scene in a pantomime ? It was hke put- 
ting a tinsel crown and tarlatan skirts on the Venus of Milo. 
But these brilliant rays which fell across the American 
Falls, and which were turned on and off like a dissolving 
view, did not reach to the Horseshoe Fall away to our 
right. Vast, solemn, shadowy, we could just distinguish 
its form in the darkness, could hear the deep murmur of 
its awful voice. And there, between it and us, what was 
that we saw ? Was it some huge pale ghost standing sen- 
tinel before Niagara ? White, spectral, motionless, it 
rose up and reached towards the stars — shapeless, dim, 
vague as a veiled ghost. There was something almost 
supernatural about it, it was like a colossal spectre, 
wrapped in a robe of strange dim light. 

"'How fine and upright the column of spray is to- 
night,' said a strange voice beside us. This broke the 
illusion. But yet it seemed impossible that our ghost 
should be only a pillar of rising and falling spray ! We 
saw it again, daily and nightly, but seldom again like 
that. We saw it blown along in clouds ; we saw it like a 
great veil hiding the whole face of the Fall ; we saw it 
one evening at sunset leaping and sparkling like a foun- 
tain of liquid gold, — but only once again did we see it rise 
up in that shape, the dim and ghostly guardian of the 
night. No mortal eye has ever beheld the base of the 
great Horseshoe Falls ; it is for ever veiled and lost in a 
wild white chaos of foam, tossed up in the fury of its 
headlong plunge, and hiding its depths in mystery. 



58 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

*' The Indians hold that Niagara claims its yearly meed 
of victims. It may be so. Or does Niagara thus avenge 
itself on the civilization that has trimmed and tamed its 
forests and dressed it up in tinsel-coloured lights ? But 
the thunder of water thunders on eternally, and before its 
terrible sublimity we are dumb, as in the mighty diapason 
our feeble voices are lost." We remain eight days at 
Niagara ; its fascination increases ; but we must tear our- 
selves away, and say good-bye to it, at last ; we are bound 
for the " Golden Gate," and great cities, lakes, mountains 
and prairie lands are lying between it and us. 




CHAPTER VI. 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 




New York— Fifth Avenue— Madison Square— The Elevated Rail- 
way—The Cars— The Shops— The People— West Point. 

E leave Niagara in the early morning, and start 
on our tedious journey on the long, comfort- 
less cars (we learned afterwards that we might 
have taken seats in the parlor car). How we long for a 
lounge in one of our own easy, well-cushioned, first-class 
compartments ! Here, there are no lounging possibiHties, 
we are forced to sit bolt upright, the back of the seats 
scarcely rising to our shoulder blades ; and the constant 
passing to and fro of the peddling fraternity, and the 
slamming and banging of doors as they come and go, is 
most irritating even to non-deHcate nerves. We feel the 
lack of privacy in these American cars, but in this, as in 
most other cases, there is some compensation — we are 
safe from the attacks of lunatics, thieves, or ruffianism of 
any kind whatever, and we can obtain any quantity of 
rich ripe fruit, luscious strawberries, bananas and melons, 
figs, etc.; while there is a tank of iced water in the car 
for the refreshment, gratis, of thirsty souls. The train 
rushes through the high streets of busy towns, crossing 

59 



6o THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

crowded thoroughfares and public highways, keeping up 
full speed always, merely ringing the engine bell, to warn 
people to get out of the way : they have to take care of 
themselves, and they know it ; no precautions are taken 
for the public safety ; the rails are merely laid down in 
the middle of the streets, and when the trains are not in 
sight other vehicles use the road. We stop to dine at 
Syracuse, sup at Utica, and reach New York a little be- 
fore midnight. A familiar face greets us on the platform, 
but not until we have engaged a carriage to take us to the 
Windsor Hotel, which proves to be just two blocks from 
the station ! Our luggage is in the hands of the express^ 
man, and we could have walked to the hotel had we been 
aware of its nearness, in less than five minutes ! The ra-' 
pacious Jehu charged four dollars for our brief occupancy 
of his dingy vehicle ; it was the first and last time we 
were so beguiled. 

It is a starlight night, and we catch a glimpse of the tall 
dark houses, which seem to be reaching up to the moon. 
The names of the streets, we notice, are painted on the 
glass gas lamps at every corner, so that in the darkest 
weather you may always tell your whereabouts. The car- 
riage stops at the monster hotel — a very mountain of 
cherry-red bricks and mortar, a huge, square building it 
is, occupying one entire block, built up so many storeys 
that our eyes can scarcely reach the top ; its windows are 
all shaded by outside linen blinds, which flap and flutter 
like flags in the dim night. The wide door opens, and 
swallows us up. We rather dreaded facing the clerk of 
this magnificent establishment ; we had heard so much of 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 6 1 

the species and the generally cavalier, supercilious man- 
ner with which they treated strangers, that we preferred 
our modest request for a double-bedded room in fear and 
trembling ; but our request could not have been more 
courteously received and answered if we had been engag- 
ing the most gorgeous suite in the v/hole hotel : I believe 
the supercilious hotel clerk must be classed with extinct 
animals. We are politely conducted to the elevator, 
which carries us up higher — higher, till we fancy we must 
be approaching the seventh heaven, and at last are de- 
posited in a large handsome apartment on one of the upper 
storeys. 

The next morning we take our first stroll through the 
" Empire city ; " an enthusiastic and patriotic American 
friend is widi us early, anxious to see the effect the first 
sight of his beloved city produces on our British constitu- 
tion. We step out from the grand entrance of the Windsor 
Hotel, and with a majestic wave of his arm he introduces 
us to " Fifth Avenue ! " and watches for the electrifying 
effect. Our faces fall, our ideas of the "Glories of the 
Avenue," which we had often heard sung, fade away. We 
look up, we look down ; instead of the wide shady avenue, 
and briUiant busy scene our fancy had painted, we see only a 
long, and by no means wide, street, bristling vv^ith churches, 
lifting their lofty spires from amid the rows of tall brown 
stone houses, which are closely packed on either side, each 
being approached by a flight of brown stone steps, with 
ornamental rails, handsome and dreary in their monoto- 
nous regularity ; but we catch no glimpse of a green tree 
anywhere ! The whole street is stamped with aristocratic 



62 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

dulness ; a score or so of well-dressed people are saunter- 
ing along the sidewalk, and clean-looking white " stages," 
which run from one end of the city to the other, are jolt- 
ing along over the rough cobble stones which pave the 
roadway ; the avenue is several miles long, but is grows 
less aristocratic, and leaves the even tenor of its way, when 
it passes through Madison Square, which is pretty and 
quite Parisian in its appearance, with a splendid growth 
of fine old trees and shady nooks and corners, quite an 
oasis in a desert of bricks and mortar ; streets of stone 
houses radiate from all sides of it ; and every day, through 
summer heat and winter snows, George Francis Train, with 
his ruined intellect and shaggy white beard, haunts the 
scene ; he is generally found seated under one particular 
tree, cutting out paper boats and figures for the troops of 
children who swarm round him ; and here stands Fifth 
Avenue Hotel, a stately building gleaming white in the 
sunshine. Here the stir of life begins, and flows in a rest- 
less magnetic current the live-long day. After leaving 
Madison Square, the avenue winds and wiggles its way to 
the lower part of the city, and mingles with the everyday 
working world. Leaving this aristocratic quarter we pass 
through one of the cross streets, between lines of the same 
brown stone houses, miniature copies of Fifth Avenue 
grandeur, and find ourselves in democratic Sixth Avenue, 
which is full of the bustle and ro'ar of life ; shops to the 
right of us, shops to the left of us, shops everywhere and 
of every possible kind, — crabs, eels and oysters, Chinese 
laundries, fancy toys, barbers, whisky bars, and fashionable 
milliners, elbow each other in true repubHcan fashion. 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 63 

The side walks are thronged with hurrying crowds of men 
and women ; along the centre of the road, but raised about 
forty feet above it, runs the elevated railway ; it looks like 
a skeleton gridiron laid on a rack and stretched from one 
end of the city to the other, its long arms branching off 
and running through the intricate labyrinths of the lower 
part of the town, rounding curves, and turning sharp cor- 
ners, and, at times, so near to the houses you might shake 
hands with the inhabitants and see what they have for 
dinner. This airy mode of locomotion is startling at first, 
especially at night when the shops are closed, and the 
streets deserted ; you heas-the rumbling of the train far 
off, and it thunders over your head, seeming to swing in 
mid-air between you and the sky, its green and red fiery 
eyes staring ahead and plunging into the darkness. Be- 
neath this elevated road, which forms a kind of arcade, 
run lines of red and yellow cars jingling their bells merrily 
as they roll rapidly along the iron rails in an almost un- 
broken line, one following the other in quick succession. 

Public conveyances are cheap, and there are plenty of 
them : cars run from everywhere to everywhere. There 
are, of course, numerous livery stables, and a limited 
number of public cabs for hire, but they are a very expen- 
sive as well as a doubtful luxury, and the drivers are most 
accomplished extorsionists. It is impossible that a drive 
through the streets of New York could ever be taken for 
pleasure, in consequence of the rough cobble- stoned road- 
way ; it is a jolting process, you take your drive at the 
risk of dislocating your neck. The cars are roomy and 
easy ; both driver and conductor are protected from the 



64 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

weather ; they stand on a kind of balcony, with an um- 
brella-like projection sloping over them, effectually shield- 
ing them from sun or rain. Everybody rides in the cars, 
from the lady in costly furs and velvets to the costermon- 
ger. You may find yourself sandwiched between a fat 
negro and lean washerwoman, and facing your jewelled 
hostess of the night before. 

There are some few trifling drawbacks in this land of 
liberty : the every-man's-as-good-as-his-neighbour feeling, 
is sometimes unpleasantly obtruded on your notice; 
especially when you embark on a shopping expedition, 
there is an absence of that respectful ready attention we 
are accustomed to meet with in Europe. You enter, say, 
a draper's shop : the young ladies are engaged in a gossip- 
ing match, or a game at flirtation ; you wait their pleasure, 
not they yours; when they do deign to attend you, it is 
with a sort of condescending indifference, and even while 
they are measuring a yard of ribbon, they keep up a fusil- 
lade of chatter with their companions. I speak of the 
rule, of course there are exceptions. Central Park is the 
only place where you can enjoy a drive — there driving is 
a delight, the roads are simply perfect, and scores of 
splendid equipages and beautiful women are on view 
daily in the grand drives from three till six o'clock ; 
while the bridle paths, winding through sylvan shades 
beneath fuU-foliaged trees, are crowded with fair eques- 
trians and their attendant cavaliers : it is a pleasure to 
watch them at a trot, a canter, or a gallop, for the Ameri- 
can women ride well and gracefully. New York is very 
proud of Central Park ; and well it may be so, for it is one 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 65 

of the finest in the world, there is nothing Hke it this side 
of the Atlantic. Twenty years ago it was a mere swampy 
rocky waste, now it is a triumph of engineering skill and a 
splendid illustration of the genius of landscape gardening : 
there are smooth green lawns, shady groves, lakes, beauti- 
fully wooded dells and vine- covered arbours ; whichever 
way you turn you come upon delicious bits of picturesque 
scenery blossoming in unexpected nooks and corners. 
Here and there huge gray rocks stand in their original 
rugged majesty, their broken lichen-covered boulders tum- 
bling at their base. From the terrace, which is the highest 
point, you enjoy a view of the entire park with its numer- 
ous lakes, fountains, bridges, and statues, spreading like a 
beautiful panorama round you. Here, too, you fully realize 
the cosmopolitan character of the city, for here great men 
of all nations are immortalized or libelled in stone, and 
their statues stud the park, side by side with the national 
heroes. Some idea of the extent of these grounds may be 
gathered from the fact, that there are ten miles of carriage 
drives, all as a rule wide enough for six to go abreast, 
about six miles of bridle paths for riding, and twenty-eight 
for pedestrian exercise ; a wide stretch of lawn is set 
apart for cricket or croquet playing, and a special quarter 
for children with merry-go-rounds, swings, etc. ; there is 
also a menagerie containing numerous and varied speci- 
mens of animals, the nucleus of what is to be, when 
completed, a fine zoological collection. 

The Park is situated in the centre of the upper town. 
The avenues run lengthwise from one end of the city to 
another, which are crossed by straight streets in a direct 



66 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

line from the East River, on the one side, to the Hudson 
on the other ; the famous Broadway running diagonally 
from the upper town, slanting across streets, squares and 
avenues till it buries itself in the intricate wilds of the 
lower town, where the streets are closely massed together 
and densely populated with wanderers from all nations, 
Polish Jews, Russians, Italians, Germans, Irish, creating a 
wild confusion of tongues, all packed in tall tenement 
houses, in close narrow streets, scores of families living 
where there is scarcely health-breathing room for one. 
Castle Garden, where admirable arrangements are made 
for the reception of emigrants, and the " Battery," once a 
fashionable promenade, point the lower end of this island 
city, girdled by the green waters of the Hudson and East 
River, which meet and mingle here. Wall Street, one of 
the great financial centres of the world, is situate in the 
busiest business quarter of the lower town, and runs in a 
somewhat broken line from Broadway to the East River. 
The traffic here is enormous, this part of the city is like a 
human cauldron, with a restless multitude seething and 
bubbling from morning till night. There must be some- 
thing in the air which excites the brain and allows to 
human nature no rest ; every man seems to be rushing for 
dear life's sake, while life itself is rushing after something 
else, sometimes hurling itself out of this world into the 
next to find it. All above Central Park is like a ragged 
fringe of the great city — long half-finished avenues, 
straggling sparsely inhabited streets, and skeleton houses ; 
much of the original swampy ground lies still unclaimed. 
The Irish squatters in their rickety tumble-down hovels 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 6/ 

Still cling to the land ; the malarial air may wrap them 
like a shroud, the swamp with its foul unwholesomeness 
threaten to swallow them up — they will not stir. By slow, 
very slow degrees, as the Government reclaims the land, 
they are driven towards the edge, but wherever they can 
find a footing they squat again. 

Although New York is one of the great commercial 
centres of the world, it is not a beautiful city ; there is 
nothing picturesque or attractive about it ; take away 
Central Park and you have a mere wilderness of bricks 
and mortar ; streets and houses so closely packed as 
scarce to leave breathing room for its inhabitants. Every 
one wants to live near the centre, and as its watery girdle 
prevents the city spreading, it grows upwards, piling one 
story above another till it threatens to shut out the sky. 
It is not a clean city either : street cleaning is carried on 
in a slovenly fluctuating fashion ; there are no dust-bins 
in the backyards, but ash-barrels stand on the curbstone 
in front of every dwelling, and are the receptacles for all 
household refuse ; dust, ashes, cabbage stumps, fish bones, 
broken china, are all poured into the ash-barrel till it 
overflows and becomes an unsightly and unsavoury 
nuisance. These should be emptied every morning — by 
order of the municipal authorities — but the order is not 
strictly enforced and is more frequently neglected than 
obeyed. The street cleaning process, though excellent in 
theory, is carried on in a slovenly intermittent fashion. 

There are several fine libraries, art galleries, and 
museums (to give an idea of their valuable and interest- 
ing contents would fill a volume), and churches so 



68 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

numerous that if the piety of the people kept pace with 
their churches there would be a scarcity of sinners. 
There are places of worship for all denominations of 
sinners, from the highest to the lowest degree. Those 
who like to revel in the lurid light of eternal condem- 
nation, and to hear thunder and lightning roll from the 
preacher's lips, can luxuriate in the prospect to their 
heart's content ; those who enjoy the gentler doctrines of 
Christianity can be cheered with hope, and consoled by 
promises of tender grace. Those who like their religion 
pure and unadulterated, can take it in its pristine simpli- 
city, sans flowers, sans music, sans all outward show, 
while those who prefer it adorned with candlesticks, em- 
broidered altar cloths and other ritualistic embellishments 
can be equally well accommodated. There is an abund- 
ance of spiritual food for all classes, no fear of famine in 
that direction. There being no state church, every place 
of worship is supported, and well supported too, by its 
own congregation. There seems to be a kind of family 
feeling — a bond of sympathy between the several peoples 
and their pastors, which does not exist where the church 
is a state institution, and the incumbent a state instru- 
ment. The churches are all handsome buildings, and are 
always comfortably, sometimes luxuriously, furnished — 
no coarse matting or hard wooden benches ; but soft 
luxurious carpets and footstools, and even palm leaf and 
Japanese fans are liberally supplied. In the few churches 
I have visited, the services have been most impressive — 
no mere preaching filled with dry-as-dust platitudes— but 
eloquent orations, brilliantly delivered. I call to mind one 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 69 

special church, whose minister is a Welsh gentleman, from 
whom I heard one of the most impressive addresses, full of 
the highest morality, which is the pure religion of human- 
ity, illustrated with brilliant imagery, and interspersed with 
poetical quotations — such as might have been heard with 
profit, by people of all creeds, whether Jews, Free- 
thinkers, or Christians, with equal profit. The choirs are 
admirably trained, the solo singers excellent. Some of 
the hymns have very beautiful words set to old tunes such 
as " Auld Lang Syne," or "Home, Sweet Home." Their 
schools are abundant, and their educational system the 
most perfect I have seen— every child may have the ad- 
vantage of a splendid education gratis ; and the mode of 
teaching is such that the veriest dunce must find pleasure 
in learning. The superintendents and teachers are well 
chosen ; with tact and kindness they lead their pupils, 
not only to learn from books, but to think out their own 
thoughts, and by suggestive and pertinent questions, 
cause them to reflect and comprehend what the lesson 
teaches, so making the path of knowledge a path of roses ; 
what is pleasantly learnt is well learnt and long remem- 
bered, while the learning that is beaten in at one ear often 
flies out the other. In the matter of hospitals, and chari- 
table institutions of all descriptions, the city of New York 
is second to none ; and all its arrangements are carried 
out with the large-hearted liberality which characterizes 
the American people. 

Though strongly republican in principle, they do not 
carry their republican notions into private life. Society is 
more exclusive than in the old country ; perhaps, not 



70 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

being sure of its own footing, it is afraid of tripping, and 
watches warily lest any stray free lance should penetrate 
its interior ; each circle revolves within itself, rarely run- 
ning one into another. Wholesale and retail mix freely in 
all commercial matters, are " Hail, fellow ! well met ! " 
on the cars or in the streets, but on the threshold of home 
they part. The merchant, who sells a thousand gallons 
of oil, will not fraternize at home, or be weighed in the 
social scale with the vendor of a farthing dip. It is al- 
ways difficult for a stranger to gain admission into the 
best New York society, but if you are once well intro- 
duced, it opens its arms and its heart to you with an hos- 
pitality that is genial and thorough. After revolving 
round its magic circle for a time, you will carry away 
with you such reminiscences of its brilliant coteries and 
delightful home gatherings as you will not easily forget. 

We are able to take but a casual survey of the Empire 
City, and enjoy for a brief space the hospitality so freely 
extended to us. We are on our way to the West, and are 
anxious to cross the Rocky Mountains before the severe 
weather set in. Before we start on our long journey, we 
run up the Hudson, and spend a few days at West Point, 
celebrated for the great miHtary college ; it is a delightful 
excursion of about three hours, the river winding through 
a panorama of lovely scenery, the banks on either side 
wearing their variegated autumn dress of crimson and 
gold and green ; but it is at West Point itself we realize 
the full glory and effect of the gorgeous autumn colouring. 
Wonderfully indeed has nature painted the land ; the 
maples are clothed in glowing crimson, and the chestnut 



THE EMPIRE CITY. 7 1 

and the ash wear their warm- tinted robes beside them, 
while covering the hundred hills around and over-spread- 
ing the undulating land are bold patches of purple, orange, 
browns, gold and greens of many shades, such as an art- 
ist would love to dream of. It is one gigantic God- 
painted mosaic (for such colours could not be manufac- 
tured by earthly hands), with a background of cool 
November sky. 

West Point itself is like a bit of an earthly paradise ; it 
stands high above the river, and is surrounded by scenery 
that is both picturesque and grand. You may lose yourself 
in its dehghtful solitudes within sound of the College bells ; 
the river winds in and out about the skirts of West Point 
like a huge silver serpent ; from the terrace of the hotel 
there is a magnificent view of hill and dale, wood and 
water, which reminds one strongly of the loveliest, lone- 
liest part of the lake of Lucerne. 

There is plenty of gaiety for those who like it : daily 
parades, mihtary bands, balls, picnics and kettledrums ; 
and during the summer season the hotels — there are but 
two — are crowded with the rank and fashion of the State. 




CHAPTER VII. 



TO THE PHCENIX CTTY. 



We Start — Our Car — Our Dressing-room — Chicago — Its Park — The 
Palmer House. 




jF the many routes to San Francisco we chose the 
Pennsylvania line of railway, which takes us as 
far as Chicago, having been informed by some 
old tourists that we should find it by far the most pictur- 
esque and agreeable, besides being the smoothest to run 
over, the rails being steel and laid with special care, and 
the new carriages being built with all consideration for the 
comfort and convenience of their passengers. We had 
rather a dread of American railways, having heard so 
much of their reckless speed and wilful disregard of all 
rules and regulations, that we started on our journey in 
some trepidation of spirit, with a nervous feeling that 
something must happen before the end of it. But we 
gained confidence as we discovered the surprising fact 
that life is equally dear to its owners here as at home, and 
that drivers, engineers, and other employes are as attentive 
to their duties here as in any other quarter of the globe. 
We settled ourselves comfortably in the seats of our luxuri- 
ous Pullman car, and prepared to enjoy the scenery. 

72 



TO THE PHCENIX CITY. 73 

We fly swiftly through the highly cultivated State of 
Pennsylvania ; for three or four hundred miles, we are 
surrounded by a panorama of picturesque beauty — spark- 
ling rivers, winding through undulating hills and verdant 
plains, with here and there pretty villages creeping up the 
green hill-sides or nestling at their feet. Presently some- 
thing that looks like a dark wriggling worm, with a fierce 
fiery eye, comes wickedly towards us. We are rounding 
the wonderful horseshoe curve ; it is our own engine, 
which seems to be coming in one direction while we are 
going in another ; but it is all right ; it drags us round, 
and speeds along on level ground once more. We pass 
the Alleghany Mountains, which on this occasion wear a 
crown of jewelled flames leaping in lurid fury upon the 
dusky night, as though they were trying to regain the 
heaven whence they had first descended. We pass Pitts- 
burg, with its thousand furnaces glowing in their own 
murky atmosphere, flashing their flames, like threatening 
fires, in the face of the fair white moon. 

As the night closes in, the excitement and novelty of 
our day's travel calms down, and we turn our attention to 
the internal arrangements of our temporary home, and are 
interested in watching our comfortable, velvet-cushioned 
section turned into a cosy sleeping-place ; soft mattresses, 
snowy sheets, and warm, gaily striped blankets are extract- 
ed from behind the ornamental panels overhead ; the 
curtains are let down ; and lo ! we may go to our rest as 
soon as we please. But we do not please until we have 
consulted our conductor, whose sole occupation during 
the day has been walking to and fro the cars, punching 



74 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

our tickets till they resemble a piece of perforated card- 
board. If this process is to be carried on during the 
night we think we shall have small chance of rest. But 
the matter is satisfactorily settled ; we may sleep in peace. 
That punching process is our bugbear throughout the en- 
tire journey. Some are so careful of their tickets that 
they never can find them when they are wanted ; and the 
appearance of the conductor is the signal for a general 
hunt. Pockets are ransacked, portmanteaus are turned 
out, people nervously feel themselves all over, plunge un- 
der the seats, crawl over the floor. " It must be some- 
where." It is found at last, perhaps wedged in a crack of 
the window, or it has dropped into the luncheon-basket 
and is extracted from a jelly- jar, strongly impregnated 
with an odour of pepper and cheese. I pin mine, as they 
impale blue-bottles and butterflies, on the side of the car. 
Gentlemen, as a rule, dispose of theirs easily enough, and 
wear them, like a dustman's badge, stuck in their hat- 
bands, or like a cavalier's order, pinned upon their 
breasts. 

This harmless piece of cardboard was the white ele- 
phant of our lives. We never knew what to do with it. 
It looked so little and meant so much. We kept early 
hours in this our travelling home, and towards nine o'clock 
the lights were lowered, and, soothed by the monotonous 
movement and rhythmical rumble of the train, we were 
soon sleeping as calmly and pleasantly as in our own beds 
at ht)me. 

Our trial came in the morning, when we marched to 
the dressing-room to perform our toilette and found a 



J 



TO THE PHCENIX CITY. 75 

whole army of dishevelled females, armed with tooth- 
brushes, sponges, etc., besieging the four-foot space yclept 
"the ladies' dressing-room," each waiting for the first sign 
of surrender to march in and take possession. This was 
the miserable epoch in our daily Hves through all the over- 
land journey ; in everything else our car life was delight- 
fully luxurious and pleasant. Perhaps there were a dozen 
ladies who every day had to grapple with the same diffi- 
culty and stand shivering, all more or less en deshabille 
(rather more than less), biding their time to take tempo- 
rary possession of the solitary soap-dish and basin pro- 
vided for their ablutions. The public are already deeply 
indebted to Messrs. Pullman and Co. for an easy and 
luxurious mode of travelling, but the debt might be in- 
creased a thousandfold by a small sacrifice on their part. 
By devoting a single section to the purpose of a second 
dressing-room, they would add considerably to the accom- 
modation of the ladies, and might fairly issue a placard of 
"Travelling made Perfect." 

No hotel or dining-cars accompany the morning train 
from New York, but eating-stations are erected at certain 
portions of the road, where you may get rid of the most 
wolfish appetite at an admirably spread table, and plenty 
of time allowed for the knife and fork engagement. 

On the second day we found ourselves rushing along 
the wide plains of Indiana, a sea of tall, sweet Indian corn 
on either side, its beaded cob, like shining ivory, gleaming 
from its leaf of tender green. We reached Chicago that 
evening, and were most kindly received at the Palmer 
House, a palatial hotel built by Mr. Potter Palmer for the 



^6 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

luxurious entertainment of the travelling public. It is 
more like an elegantly appointed home than a mere rest^ 
ing-place for such birds of passage as ourselves. Each 
suite of apartments is perfect in itself, with a bath-room 
and every convenience attached, richly curtained and 
carpeted, with luxurious lounges and the easiest of easy- 
chairs ; once settled in their soft embrace it is difficult to 
tear one's self from their downy arms. Being cosily in- 
stalled beneath this hospitable roof, one feels, hke " poor 
Joe^'' disinclined to " move on." The spacious halls and 
corridors are furnished in accord with other portions of 
the house. The walls are lined with faiiteiiils, sofas, and 
all the appointments of a handsome drawing-room. 

As soon as we had enjoyed the luxury of a bath (and 
after two days' dusty travel, what a luxury that is!), we 
went to the dining saloon in search of our dinner, and 
found an unusually good one, excellently served and 
abundantly supplied. If we had staid for a month and 
eaten pro rata as at our first meal, we should have ruined 
our digestive organs and rejoiced in internal discords for 
ever afterward. Our m^nu was illustrated. On one side 
was depicted a pigstye and a hovel — " Chicago forty years 
ago." On the other was a wonderful city — *' The Chicago 
o-f to-day ! " 

Knowing of the fiery scourge which a few years ago had 
marred and scarred the beauty of that fair city, we expected 
to find traces of ugliness and deformity everywhere, crip- 
pled buildings, and lame, limping streets running along in 
a forlorn crooked condition, waiting for time to restore 
their old vigour and build up their beauty anew. But, 



TO THE PHCENIX CITY. 77 

Phoenixlike, the city has risen up out of its own ashes, 
grander and stateHer than ever. On the outskirts the Hne 
of fire can still be traced ; gaunt skeletons of houses still 
remain to point the way it took, and more than one ruined 
church, stripped of its altar and regal signs of grace, 
stands bHnd and helpless in the sunshine ; while in the 
suburbs picturesque shells of once beautiful homes greet 
us here and there. But once within the boundaries of the 
city we lose all traces of the conflagration. The business 
streets are lined with handsome massive houses, some six or 
seven stories high, substantially built, sometimes of red brick 
with stone copings and elaborate carving, while others are 
built of that creamy stone which reminds one of the Paris 
boulevards. No wooden buildings are allowed to be 
erected within a certain distance of the city. The fash- 
ionable trading localities are State and Clark streets, 
though there are several others which are well patronized 
by a less fashionable multitude. On either side are large 
handsome drygoods, millinery, and other stores of all pos- 
sible descriptions, the windows being arranged with a 
tasteful elaboration that might stand side by side with our 
fashionable establishments at home, and lose nothing by 
the comparison. The different banks, churches, and 
municipal buildings w^hich had been destroyed by the 
great fire-fiend are all re-erected in a substantial style, 
though with varying degrees of eccentric architecture. 
The new w^ater-works, situated at the northern end of the 
city, are the most beautiful illustrations of the vagaries of 
the architectural brain. It must have wandered into 
dreamland and caught up its prevailing idea, for never 



78 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

were so many cupolas and buttresses, pinnacles and towers, 
grouped together on one spot ; none but a true artist could 
have arranged them into so harmonious a whole, and pro- 
duced from a combination of such opposite forms so im- 
posing an effect. 

A painter may indulge in all the eccentricities of his 
genius, may derive his inspiration from what source he 
will, there is no restriction to the realms of his art. He 
may choose his subject, and illustrate it according to his 
own fancy ; he may wander far from the realms of art, 
and give to the wood a " harmony in blue and gold," or a 
" study in brass and impudence," and his productions are 
called " original." But if an architect outruns the bounds 
prescribed by the five orders of architecture, and dares to 
give play to his fancy, his work is stigmatized as " bastard 
art," and he is considered a fit subject for a lunatic asylum. 
On our drives through and about the city we were struck 
by the dearth of trees. There were no signs of pleasant 
green shade anywhere ; they had all been destroyed by the 
great fire. Streets and avenues had been rebuilt, and they 
were replanting as fast as they could ; but nature will not 
be hurried in her work, her children must have time to grow, 
and though her fairest fruits are sometimes forced into an 
unnatural growth, she revenges herself by robbing them 
of their sweetest flavour. 

Along the shore road we drove to the park at the 
northern end of the city, which gives promise of being a 
delightful promenade and recreation ground ; but it is at 
present only a park in embryo, though it is growing rapidly. 
Flowers and shrubs are being planted, grassy knolls built 



TO THE PHCENIX CITY. 79 

up, and paths and winding ways cut and gravelled. In 
the course of a few years it will have outgrown its present 
ragged state, and have bloomed into a deUghtful pleasure- 
ground, with the whispering waves of that inland sea, Lake 
Michigan, kissing with soft foam lips its grassy slopes, 
while great ships go sailing and steamers ride royally on 
the breast of the wide waters on one side, and the great 
city, with its hubbub, bustle and roar, lies upon the other. 
Chicago is indeed a great city, full of energy and enter- 
prise. Signs of its hidden strength and powers of progress 
greet us everywhere ; but at present it appears to be wholly 
devoted to money-making. Art, science (except such sci- 
ence as serves its purpose), and literature are in a languish- 
ing state. But it is young yet. Perhaps when it is fully 
developed, and grown strong in muscle, and bone, and 
brain, the soul may be born to glorify the commonplace, 
and stir the latent genius of this city into life and beauty. 
With some regret we sit down to our last dinner in this 
bright, bustling city, and go to bed to dream of to-morrow, 
for in the morning we begin our journey west, and the 
magnet which has drawn us across the sea lies at the 
Golden Gate. 




CHAPTER VIII. 




WESTWARD HO ! 

Our Travelling Hotel — The Prairies — The Emigrant Train — Bret 
Harte's Heroes — Reception of General Grant in the Wild West — 
" See, the Conquering Hero Comes " — The Procession. 

HE next morning we started, via the Chicago 
and Northwestern Railway, for Omaha. This 
is a most desirable route, over even, well-laid 
rails, the carriages easy and luxurious, and we are whirled 
along over the illimitable prairie lands with a pleasant, 
gliding, almost noiseless motion, which recalled to our 
minds the gondola movement on the Grand Canal at Ven- 
ice ; this we are told is owing to some new invention of 
india-rubber or paper wheels which the company have 
applied to their carriages, which greatly adds to the com- 
fort of their travellers. It was here, for the first time, we 
enjoyed the luxury of the hotel car. We were getting 
hungry, and curious to know what good things the gods 
would provide for us. Presently a good-humoured negro, 
" God's image carved in ebony," clothed all in white, 
brought us a bill of fare from which to select our meal. 
It was an embarras de richesses. There were so many 
good things that we held a consultation as to what would 
form the most desirable meal. We decided on mulliga- 

80 



WESTWARD ho! 8i 

tawny soup, broiled oysters, lamb cutlets, and peas, and 
handed the menu back to our swarthy attendant. A nar- 
row passage, every inch of which is utilized, separates the 
kitchen from the rest of the car. How is it that in so 
many private houses the odour of roast and broil travels 
from the kitchen and insinuates itself into the remotest 
corner of the house ? It greets you on the doorstep and 
follows you everywhere. Here the occupants of the car, 
but a few feet off, have no suggestion of dinner till it is 
placed before them. 

We were curious as to the working of the culinary de- 
partment, and animated by a noble desire to obtain knowl- 
edge we penetrated the sacred precincts of the cook. He 
gazed sternly at us on our entrance, but we insinuated 
ourselves into his good graces, and he showed us every 
nook and corner of his domain. The kitchen was a per- 
fect gem of a place, about eight feet square. A range 
ran along one side, its dark, shining face breaking out 
into an eruption of knobs, handles, and hinges of polished 
brass or steel. Curious little doors were studded all 
over it. One opened here and there to give us a sniff of 
its savory ^crets, then shut with a laughing clang, so 
playing " bo-peep " with our appetites. Presently we 
should enjoy the full revelation of its culinary secrets. 
Pots, steamers, and " bain Marie " pans were simmering 
on the top. Every requisite for carrying on the gastro- 
nomical operations was there in that tiny space, in the 
neatest and most compact form. Scrupulous cleanliness 
reigned supreme over all. There was the pantry, with its 
polished silver, glass, and china in shining array. The 



82 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

refrigerator, with a plentiful supply of ice, and the larder 
were side by side. The wine and beer cellar was artfully 
arranged beneath the car ; none but he who possessed the 
secret of " open sesame " could get access to it. Thus 
every inch of space was realized to its utmost extent. It 
was like a dominion in Toyland, inhabited by an ebony 
giant, who by a species of culinary conjuring produced 
an epicure's feast from a handful of wood and charcoal. 
Towards six o'clock every table was spread with dainty 
linen, and the dinner was exquisitely served according to 
the previous orders of each traveller. The simplest dish, 
as well as the most elaborate, was cooked to perfection, 
and everybody fell to with a will. Early hours were kept 
here as in our other travelling home, and the same rou- 
tine was pursued in the morning. Breakfast was served 
about eight o'clock. The flat prairie land rolled away 
rapidly beneath our iron tread, and lay in long dusky 
lines behind us. Imperceptibly the scenery around us 
changed. We passed a succession of wild, low-lying hills, 
brown and bare ; then more hills growing higher and 
greener, rising out of the swampy lands, where herds of 
cattle and wild shaggy ponies were standing knee deep 
and grazing among the red willows and long green grass. 
The skies were leaden, the wind began to blow, and the 
rain to fall. We passed a quiet little lake, dotted all over 
with wild ducks, and prairie birds flying restlessly over 
them. Signs of life became stronger. We flew past 
wooden shanties, and now and then caught sight of a 
lonely settler's hut high up in the hills. Presently we 
rolled into a low, flat, straggling village, or rather town, 



WESTWARD HO I 83 

for every group of a dozen houses is so dignified here. 
This was Council Bluffs. Here we left our cosy car, and 
crossed the bleak windy space which yawned between us 
and the car yclept " the Dumm)/ ! " which was to carry us 
to Omaha. 

We were^ crammed into a long, comfortless, wagon-like 
car with a host of nondescript folk, some bearing babies, 
bundles, or baskets of fish or vegetables, some tattered 
and torn, some unshaven, unshorn, all mixed up higglety 
pigglety. It was stuffy and by no means savory, for the 
windows were all closed to keep out the wind and the 
rain, which was now pouring in torrents. For a few mo- 
ments we looked out shivering on the most desolate pros- 
pect. The skies were heavy with huge, black clouds, 
j whose growling thunders went reverberating like a cannon- 

ade among the surrounding hills. The wind howled like a 
shrieking demon, and came creeping in at every crevice, 
till we shivered in its icy grasp. Dreary without and 
dreary within ! 

But we look forward hopefully. In half an hour we 
shall reach Omaha, where we expect to be well housed 
and fed. Slowly we begin to move. Our " dummy " 
finds voice enough to groan and pant painfully with its 
brazen lungs as it carries us across the bridge which spans 
the Missouri River and connects Omaha with Council 
Bluffs. The bridge is a mile long, and we go very slowly 
over it. The river, which at this point is the colour and 
consistency of thick pea soup, or a liquefied London fog, 
winds with a sluggish motion below us, wriggling its way 
between the iron piers with a sullen, rebellious gurgle, as 



84 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

though it was ashamed of its defiled condition, and hated 
to be driven from its own bright waters, which were spark- 
ling clear as crystal not so many miles away. But once 
set floating in a muddy stream in the world of waters, as 
in the world of men, it is difficult to mingle with the pure 
living waters again. 

At last we creak and rumble into the station at Omaha. 
Our poor dummy's joints are rusty and want oiling. It 
seems glad to stop, and so are we. We glance round us, 
and feel we are on the threshold of a new world. The 
platform is crowded with a motley assemblage of people, 
from which the " genteel " element seems to be wholly 
eliminated. There is a hurrying to and fro of many feet, 
a general bustle and confusion reigning everywhere. A 
very babel of voices is ringing round us. The harsh gut- 
tural German, the liquid Italian, and the mellifluous 
Spanish mingles with the Yankee twang and Irish brogue. 
The emigrant train has just arrived and disgorged its liv- 
ing freight. The platform overflows with them, they are 
everywhere, all with a more or less travel-stained look. 
Having been penned up so long in such close quarters 
they are glad to get out and stretch their legs and rinse 
the dirt from their grimy faces. Swarthy men, with bare 
arms, are splashing about in buckets; some are perform- 
ing their ablutions under the pump, or in anything that 
comes handy. One sad-eyed German woman, with a 
child in her arms, is sitting entrenched amongst an army 
of bags and bundles, and dipping an old handkerchief into 
a pint cup of water is wiping her child's face and her own, 
refreshing themselves as they best could therewith. I 



WESTWARD ho! 85 

Stop and put a packet of candy into the little one's hand. 
The mother stares vacantly, and slowly extracting a cop- 
per coin from a poor, little, ragged purse, which she drew 
from her bosom, offers it in payment. 

The women as a rule look faded, wan, and anxious ; the 
men energetic and strong, confident and assured, with a 
bright, never-say-die look upon their faces. 

They look as if they meant " work," and were able to 
do it. There seem to be only a few loafers and loungers 
scattered among them, weak, indolent creatures, who had 
not pluck enough to fight their way in their own land, and 
are journeying in search of a general El Dorado, a sort of 
" Tom Tidler's ground," where they could go " picking 
up gold and silver." 

They are to wait three hours at the station before they 
resume their journey west. It is a strange gathering, that 
flock of varying nationalities, all bound on one adventur- 
ous errand — a wave of the Old World breaking on the 
shores of the New. 

The Grand Pacific Hotel having been destroyed by fire, 
we get into an omnibus which conveys us to the Cosmo- 
politan, which is a striking contrast to the magnificent 
hotels which have hitherto lined our route. It is second- 
rate in style, but also second-rate in price. No lounges ; 
no easy-chairs ; no velvet carpets under foot. The floors 
are sanded ; the chairs uncompromisingly hard and up- 
right : but the beds are comfortable enough ; meals excel- 
lently cooked, though roughly served. We enjoy all the 
necessities, but none of the luxuries of life. As we only 
intend to remain in Omaha for a day we walk out to take 



86 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

a view of the town. It is a most dreary, desolate-looking 
city, with wide, straggling, dusty streets, and next to no- 
body in them. The shops are numerous enough, such as 
they are, but seedy-looking and scantily suppHed. No- 
body is doing anything ; there seems to be nothing to do. 
The shopkeepers lounge in their doorways ; they don't 
appear to have energy enough even to gossip with their 
neighbours. The very children seem to have no heart for 
childish roistering ! their spirits droop under the atmos- 
pheric depression ; they com.e trooping out of school and 
wend their way homeward in a stolid, orderly fashion. 
The side-streets are overgrown with dank grass and 
weeds ; in the outskirts of the city little wooden houses, 
looking exactly as if they had come out of a Noah's Ark, 
are scattered irregularly about, each standing in its little 
barren patch of ground. We spend the morning wander- 
ing through these dusty, windblown streets. We return 
to the hotel, take a hasty lunch, an hour's rest, then sally 
forth again. By this time something has happened to stir 
the dead city into life. For the hour it is roused from its 
normal condition. The shops are closed, the population 
has turned out into the streets, and people come flocking 
in from all parts of the country — some on foot, some in 
ramshackle old vehicles which look as though they had 
never worn a coat of paint, and so dilapidated we wonder 
how they manage to keep together ; the wheels seem to be 
struggling to run different ways, but the big, bony steed 
draws them through dust and mire, till the vantage-point 
is gained in the streets of Omaha. A few fluttering flags 
are now flying. The Stars and Stripes are everywhere. 



WESTWARD no! 8/ 

and on turning a sharp corner we stand face to face with 
a triumphal arch buiU up of egg boxes and old beer bar- 
rels, which are partially covered with evergreens and 
paper flowers, and in big, blazing, though somewhat tum- 
bledown letters across the top is written "Welcome 
Grant." 

So the gallant General is expected to-day, and that is 
the cause of the commotion. He is to make a royal prog- 
ress through the streets of Omaha, and all the city turns 
out to do him honour, though the female part of the popu- 
lation is sparcely represented. Indeed there is scarcely a 
woman to be seen out of doors. It is here we gain our 
first view of the Western man precisely as he lives in the 
pages of Bret Harte & Co., where we have so often seen 
him in our mind's eye ; but here he is a personality before 
us— dark, hollow-cheeked, stern-visaged, slouch-hatted, 
top-booted ; there are scores of him, hundreds of him ; he 
tramps along the side-walk, he overflows into the stony 
roadway. The aspect of this swarm of rough, unkempt 
men is rather alarming to us unprotected females. But 
"he roars him soft," and respectfully makes way for us to 
pass. It seems strange to find a silent, well-ordered crowd 
formed of such rough elements. There is no horse-play, 
no vulgar "chaff," or foul language, such as would char- 
acterize a similar crowd in most of our civilized cities. 
But, alas ! the romance that might cling to this Western 
hero is spoiled by his personal habits. He has small ac- 
quaintance with soap and water, and he chews tobacco. 
The result which marks his track wherever he wanders is 
visible and revolting. However, he is stout of limb and 



88 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

true of heart. We feel instinctively that a rude word or 
discourteous act in our presence is simply impossible, so 
v/e lift our unprotected heads and march on triumphant. 
We feel we must keep moving, though we are disposed to 
lag and see what is to be seen of the show. We have not 
sauntered many steps when the engine bell rings. '' Lo ! 
the conquering hero comes ! " There is a buzz, a general 
stir, and all eyes are turned in one direction. We fall 
back, and are promoted to a position in the front rank on 
the curbstone. 

There was a coal-black negress on one side of us, 
dressed in a pale-blue dress with white trimmings, a scar- 
let shawl, a pink bonnet with red and yellow roses, and a 
pea-green parasol. She was evidently happy, and her 
white teeth gleamed through a wreath of smiles. The 
procession came in sight headed by a band of music, a 
huge drum being the chief instrument ; fifes and flutes 
squeaking their loudest, each trying to get ahead of the 
other, running a race with time rather than trying to keep 
it. The poor " Star Spangled Banner " was torn with 
discords, tattered in tune, its own creator would not have 
known it. Next came the General in an old-fashioned 
coach drawn by six horses, evidently promoted from the 
ploughshare for this special occasion. Mrs. Grant fol- 
lowed, with her son and some lady friends, all looking 
smiling, good-tempered, and happy, as though the dreary 
boredom of a reception awaited them not. Then came a 
curious procession of wagons, representing the different 
trades of the town. There was the blacksmith, hammer 
in hand, labouring at the anvil, bellows blowing, sparks 



WESTWARD ho! 89 

flying round him as though he were in his native smithy ; 
the cutler, the nailmaker, the carpenter, the cooper, etc., 
all surrounded by the implements of their trade, and ply- 
ing them, too, with a will. Last of this novel procession 
came a wagon filled with pretty young girls, all busily 
engaged hemming, sewing, and frilling at their different 
sewing-machines. This closed the procession, and " The 
Magnificent Reception of General Grant by the Citizens 
of Omaha " was duly chronicled. It flashed along the 
telegraph wires and flamed in the face of the world before 
the sun had set. 

The multitude melted away as quietly as it had collect- 
ed, and we went on our way to the Pullman car office to 
secure our section for the morning. The clerk was with 
the Reception Committee, and v/e had to wait for his 
return. We were entertained meanwhile by the rhapsodies 
of one of the General's wildest admirers, who turned on 
the tap of conversation and filled us to the brim with 
voluntary information. 

'' I fought under the General fourteen years ago. Ah ! 
he's a man, the General is ! Talk of him being President! 
He ought to be emperor. There'd be no disunited States 
while he was around, I warrant. I haven't seen him for 
years, but he knew me. They stopped at the corner of 
Tenth, ; I jumped on the carriage steps : ' Hurrah, Gen- 
eral,' says I, * I fought under you at ' 

" ' All right ! ' says he, and shook hands. Ah ! he's a smart 
fellow. No other General could have done what he did." 

A tall aristocratic looking man, who was standing by 
waiting his turn, moved coolly away from the group. 



90 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

The face of the General's friend knotted itself into an 
expression of deep disgust. He evidently deemed that 
cold water was thrown on his enthusiasm. 

" There goes a copperhead," he snarled. " I can smell 
'em a mile off. We haven't done with 'em yet : we've only 
scotched the snake, not killed it ; we shall have to thrash 
'em again, and I'll be the first to shoulder a musket." 

In this strain he continued. We transacted our business 
and descended the stairs. His voice followed us, growing 
more fiercely eloquent, till we were out of hearing. I 
fancy he had been drinking the General's health too 
freely. 

We were not very sorry to leave Omaha next morning, 
for we had rested little during the night, having made a 
bad selection of rooms. Our door opened on to the 
general parlour (all sitting-rooms are called parlours), and 
a gruff, growling wave of conversation swept over our ears 
from time to time till long past midnight. Indeed, we 
were kept lively in more ways than one. Meanwhile a 
violent rain began to fall, and beat frantically against our 
window panes, and I dreamt that the whole sky was 
turned into a dome of whalebone and calico, and this globe 
of ours was whirling around beneath a gigantic umbrella. 
I was not sorry when our twenty-four hours at Omaha 
were over. 



CHAPTER IX. 




ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 

Our Fellow-passengers — Unprotected Females — Prairie Dog Land — 
A Cosy Interior — Cheyenne — The Rocky Mountains — "Castles 
not Made by Hands " — Ogden. 

E Start once more on our pleasant Pullman car ; 
we arrange our tiny packages and make our- 
selves as much as possible " at home " in our 
cosy section. The car is crowded, as the different lines of 
railway end here, and all who are westward bound must 
come on this one daily train from Omaha. We look 
round on our fellow-passengers. As a rule, they are 
simply commonplace, such as nature manufactures by 
millions and turns out merely labelled men and women, 
with no special characteristics except their sex. There 
are, however, some exceptions. In the opposite section 
is a big, burly fellow in jackboots, a huge sombrero, a 
frieze coat, which looks as though it ought to be stuck 
full of bowie-knives and pistols, and such a growth of 
crisp dark hair, he seems smothered under it ; a pair of 
bright eyes gleam out from its bushy surroundings, full of 
enterprise, energy, and spirit ; he is a miner, we learn, 
going on by stage two hundred miles from Cheyenne to 

91 



92 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

the Black Hills. The companion of his section is a tall, 
delicate-looking young man, so thin and fragile it seems 
as though a gust of wind would blow him out of this 
world into the next. He rarely speaks, but sits leaning 
his head upon his hand, coughing the terrible, hacking 
cough which tells a sad story. He is travelling in search 
of health, he tells us ; the more eagerly he pursues, the 
faster it seems to fly from him. In our mind's ^ye we see 
the phantom Death chasing him from land to land ; it will 
too surely run him down and lay him to rest beneath the 
bright Calif ornian skies, and hide him from the world's 
eyes where even his own mother will never be able to find 
him. We are sorry to see this forlorn stranger solitary 
and alone ; we are anxious to show him some sympathy, 
but there is nothing to be done ; it hurts him to talk, and 
he has all he wants within reach of his own hands. His 
rough companion, bound for the Black Hills, seems to 
take a tender interest in him, and shows his sympathy in 
a silent, unobtrusive way difficult to specify. In the next 
section to ours there is a pretty young girl ; she is travel- 
ling quite alone from Boston to Arizona, a journey of twelve 
days and nights, in perfect comfort and safety. A lady 
can do that in this country without running the slightest 
risk of annoyance or inconvenience in any way. The con- 
ductors and all the train officials devote themselves most 
loyally to her service, and are always at hand to give her 
any advice or information she may require. They pass 
her on from train to train or from stage to stage till she 
arrives at the end of her journey, having received the 
same courteous attention throughout. Indeed, to thor- 



ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 93 

oughly enjoy travelling in perfect comfort and freedom 
from anxiety, one must be an unprotected female. To 
her the manly heart yields his interest in car or stage ; 
gives her the best seat, that she may be screened and 
curtained, while he broils in the sun ; for her he fights a 
way to the front ranks of refreshment rooms, skirmishes 
with the coffee-pot, and bears triumphant ices aloft ; for 
her he battles with baggage-masters, baffles the hungry- 
hearted loafer, scares the barefooted beggar, and, not 
being her legitimate owner, he carries her bandbox, and, 
should she be burdened with that doubtful blessing, he 
even carries her baby ! I have seen him do it. There 
was a general demand upon his chivalry on board this 
car, but there was plenty of him and only four of us. 
Besides ourselves and the pretty girl before referred 
to, there was a snuff-coloured young lady with snuff- 
coloured hair, snuff-coloured eyes, and dress to match, a 
grayish complexion, and rather grave, sad expression of 
countenance. She was not good-looking, but one felt 
an interest in watching her. Her face had a story in it. 

Having so far taken note of our fellow-passengers, we 
lean back in our seats and look out upon the vast prairie- 
lands, which roll before and around us like a gray-green, 
motionless sea. The prospect is wild and dreary. Oc- 
casionally we see a trapper's dug-out or watch a solitary 
hunter galloping towards his hut somewhere up in the 
distant mountains. The scene grows monotonous ; nay, 
wearisome. Nothing but the gray- green prairie-land and 
bright blue sky ; the novelty of it has worn off. Presently 
we come upon the prairie dogs' wild domain, and see 



94 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

scores of these funny little animals scampering along till 
they reach each his particular hole, where he sits on his 
hind legs a moment, glancing curiously round and listen- 
ing, then, turning a somersault, disappears, head first, down 
his burrow. They are plump little creatures, like guinea 
pigs, only much larger, and something the colour of the 
prairie -grass ; they are sociable little animals, and live not 
only in the companionship of their own kind, for the bur- 
rowing owl and even the rattlesnake seem to form part of 
the family. The owl may often be seen solemnly sitting 
at the mouth of the hole, and the bones of the rattlesnake 
have not unfrequently been found therein. Once we 
catch a glimpse of a herd of antelopes flying, like the 
wind, across the plain. They have come and gone like 
a flash ; nothing more breaks the monotony of that day's 
journey. 

The blinding sunlight dazzles our eyes ; we withdraw 
them from the scene without and glance round upon 
the cheerful prospect within. Some are indulging in re- 
miniscences of old times, when it had taken them six 
weary months of toil, privation, and danger to cross these 
plains, which they are now doing luxuriously in seven 
days. In one section a rubber of whist is in progress in 
sociable but solemn silence ; in another a pair of travellers 
bound for the Black Hills are engaged in the game of 
poker, and cut, deal, shuflle, and play with such rapidity 
that we can catch no idea of the game ; some lounge over 
the whist-table watching the players ; the snuff-coloured 
girl leans back in her seat with folded hands lying idly in 
her lap, gazing with vacant eyes, not on the desolation 



ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 95 

round her, but possibly on her own invisible life, which 
may be a more dismal prospect still ; the pretty girl gets 
out her tatting, and we have a pleasant chat and exchange 
small confidences together : her parents are dead, she tells 
me, and she has not a relation in the world except her 
brother, w^ho is settled in Arizona, and she is now going 
to make her home with him. 

" I haven't seen him since I was three years old," she 
added, showing his portrait ; " he is sixteen years older 
than I am." 

" You are quite sure of a welcome ? " 

" Oh, yes ; I know he'll be glad to see me. He wanted 
me to come, and he is such a good brother," she added, 
confidently. " He'll come to meet me in San Francisco, 
if he can." 

So time passes till we reach Cheyenne. There we all 
turn out in anticipation of having a thoroughly good meal, 
and are not disappointed. We enjoy a capital dinner, a 
very necessary thing in these mountain regions. The hot 
soup is excellent ; then we have broiled trout and a roast 
of black-tailed deer, the most delicious-flavored, tender 
meat conceivable ; fresh vegetables and fruits are plenti- 
fully supplied ; and, as a crowning bliss, we enjoy the 
luxury of black coffee ; and, in a perfectly happy, con- 
tented frame of mind, we re-enter our Pullman home. 

Everybody is content, and everybody has a good word 
for Cheyenne. Why is it that things are not equally well 
managed throughout this well-travelled route ? As a rule 
the eating-stations are wretchedly supplied. We have 
thrown away many a noble appetite on a tough, tasteless 



96 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

Steak and watery soup, that had scarcely strength to run 
down our throats. Indeed, Cheyenne, Humboldt, and 
Laramie are the only stations where a thoroughly good, 
comfortable meal may be relied on. A well-filled 
luncheon-basket is a necessity, a comfort, as well as an 
economy, for the charges at these places are a dollar for 
anything, unless you crowd to the emigrants' refreshment 
bar, where cooking is by no means studied as a high art. 

Leaving Cheyenne we charge gallantly forward, climb- 
ing higher and higher, till we are in the regions of snow 
and ice, and at last reach Sherman, the highest point of 
these Rocky Mountains, eight thousand two hundred feet 
above the level of the sea. The rarefied air affects the 
breathing of some of our party, and one gallant officer, 
who has gone through the smoke and fire of many battles 
unharmed, is seized with an ignominious bleeding at the 
nose. For us, we suffer not the slightest inconvenience. 
We have left the rolling prairies behind us, and now, by 
imperceptible grades, begin to descend this wide range of 
Rocky Mountains. Vast, rugged, and bare in their stony 
strength they lie before us ; a bright blue sky bends bell- 
like over us, bathes us in a kind of spiritual sunshine, and 
shuts us in from the troublous world beyond. We feel 
we are intruders in this wondrous solitude ; it seems as 
though Nature should have it all to herself here, and hurl 
us poor pigmies out of it. But in these days Nature is 
allowed to hold nothing sacredly her own ; as she retreats 
we follow her even to her farthest fastnesses, — in time we 
shall reach her even there. Our living street dashes on 
through this world of the olden gods. We fancy that in 



ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 9/ 

some far-distant ages this must have been a wide over- 
whelming sea, lashed to fury and then turned to stone. 
As we descend the scene changes ; the rocks assume 
strange, fantastic forms, weird, solemn, or grotesque. On 
every side we are surrounded by some new wonder. 
There is something in the grandeur of this silent world 
which makes us feel small and sad ; we cease talking, and 
are borne through this sublime region in awe-struck silence. 
Ruined castles, not made by hands, with buttress and 
battlements falling to decay, frown darkly over us. The 
remains of some ancient cathedrals, where we can fancy 
the olden gods held solemn service, cling to the gray rock 
beside us. But tower and buttress, castled crag and bat- 
tlemented ruins fade from our sight, and we come upon 
new scenes of equal wonder. We pass through serried 
swords of rock, which look as though they had been 
lifted there by some dead Hercules at war with the 
mightier gods. We whistle and shriek as we rush past the 
giant's jaws, whose jagged teeth seem set ready to grind 
us to powder, but they are fixed immovable till the judg- 
ment day. We pass the Pulpit Rock, where the stony 
preacher has stood silent looking southward since the 
world began. There is a tradition that the Prophet of the 
Lord, the leader of the Latter Day Saints, whose province 
we are fast approaching, once preached there to his peo- 
ple during their early perilous journey, while they were 
ignorant of the marvellous Salt Lake and valleys beyond, 
where they have since made their home. There are 
numerous small towns and villages hidden away among 
those mountainous regions, which are intersected by fer- 
5 



98 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

tile valleys, and where beautiful rivers are eternally flow- 
ing ; but we see nothing of them, we are only told that 
they are there. We are now entering the famous Echo 
and Weber Canons, of which we had heard so much. 
Here the grandeur of the whole rugged range seems to 
have reached its highest point. We are in a narrow gorge 
between rocks of colossal and majestic dimensions, rising 
perpendicularly on either side of us, so high and so near 
that our eyes have to climb steadily till they reach the 
topmost peak. We, with our petty passions and frail 
human life, the last, and, as we are told, the best of all God's 
works, feel dwarfed and insignificant beside these gigantic 
memorials, which stand through all ages the insignia of 
His immortal honour and glory. We steam for miles 
through this rocky world of wonders, ^niid a stillness so 
profound that the whistle of our engine echoes, re-echoes, 
and is flung back upon our ears multiplied and sounding 
like the shrieks of invisible demons giving us a mocking 
welcome to their silent land. We are nearing the narrows, 
where the canon is drawing its rocky sides together, clos- 
ing us in as it were. There seems to be no escape for us ; 
we feel as though we must be dashed down the precipice 
which yawns below. But we round a sharp curve, and 
the scene widens. On our right is a wide ledge of rugged, 
gray rocks, where, we are told, the Mormons made a stand 
in 1857, and erected a fort close by, the ruins of which are 
still visible. There they piled up masses of rock and 
stones to hurl down upon the United States Army, which 
it was found expedient to send against them. The Nauvoo 
regiments, we are told, encamped here close beneath the 



ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 99 

prow of the "Great Eastern," a huge red rock, so called 
from the resemblance it bears to that portion of gigantic 
vessel ; a small cedar-tree waves like a green flag over it, 
and the deck and other parts of the stony vessel slope 
away and are swallowed up and lost in the shapeless mass 
of gray rocks surrounding. A little farther on, sombre 
and weird, stand The Three Witches, as though whisper- 
ing together, plotting mischief, manufacturing and sending 
forth storms, hurricanes, and cyclones to devastate the 
world of man below. Now we are fast approaching what 
is perhaps the most marvellous of all these strange forma- 
tions, " The Devil's SHde," whither his Satanic Majesty is 
supposed to retire for gymnastic exercises when he has 
nothing else to do, which is not often, though the " City of 
the Saints " is so near at hand. It is formed of two slant- 
ing walls about a foot thick, which stand out with their 
ragged, jagged edges about fifty feet, and slope down the 
face of the huge body of rock nearly close together, but 
leaving room for a whole company of fiends to amuse 
themselves by sliding down between them. We flash past 
The Thousand Mile Tree, the solitary green thing which 
flourishes in the precipitous wilds, and which tells us we 
are a thousand miles from Omaha, and within an hour's 
ride of Ogden. The night closes in very suddenly in these 
regions, and even as we are looking on the wonders round 
us they grow indistinct, and are soon lost in the gloomy 
shadow which comes stealing stealthily down as soon as 
the sun has set. 

It is quite dark when we steam into the station ; the 
gong is sounding (with that whirring, muffled, deafening 



lOO THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

sound which only a Chinese gong can make) an invitation 
to dinner, of which we are glad enough to avail ourselves. 
Porters are dashing about with lighted lanterns, luggage 
is lifted, and stacked, and wheeled across the platform to 
the other train, for there is a general change at this point, 
and all passengers are shifted from the Union, which ends 
here, to the Central Pacific, which takes up the journey 
and progresses westward. An hour is allowed for dinner, 
and amid the clatter of knives and forks, a hurrying to 
and fro of many feet, the sound of genial voices, chatter 
and laughter, we dine. Soon, too soon, it seems, the now 
familiar cry " All aboard ! all aboard ! " greets our ears. 
A few hurried good-byes and the westward bound speed 
on their way. We watch the red fiery eye of the engine 
light fade from our sight, as it winks and blinks away in 
the darkness. We re-enter the house, where we have 
decided to remain for the night. All is silent and desert- 
ed now that the guests of an hour have departed ; the 
lights are out, and the few dusky servants flit to and fro 
in a noiseless way. We have got the place all to our- 
selves, and have plenty of time to look about us. It is a 
most comfortable resting-place, more like a cosy English 
inn than the more pretentious -sounding hotel. There are 
no houses near it, the town of Ogden proper being some 
little distance off, though still within sight of the depot. 
Our resting-place is sandwiched between the two lines of 
railway, the Union and Central Pacific. It is a long, 
narrow, wooden building, only one story high, the lower 
part being devoted to railway business purposes, Pullman- 
car office, etc., and a large dining-room where, as the train 



ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. lOI 

steams in with its freight of hungry travellers, an excel- 
lent, well-cooked meal awaits them. The upper part 
consists of about ten or twelve cosy white-curtained 
sleeping-rooms. We should advise every one to rest here 
for a night on their way westward; it forms a delightful 
break in their journey. Except for the passing trains this 
is a most lonely, isolated spot, weird and still, lying in the 
heart of the mountains. In the evening a blinding snow- 
storm came on, and the wind, howling fearfully with a 
rushing mighty sound, shook the doors and rattled at the 
windows as though it wanted to come in and warm itself 
at our blazing wood fire. As I said before, we were the 
only guests in the house, and the landlady came in, bring- 
ing her work. The shaded lamps were Hghted, the wood 
crackled and blazed, and cast a pleasant glow to our very 
hearts as we drew our chairs round the fire. 

Our landlady had lived in this locality five and twenty 
years, and her mind was well stocked with anecdotes, and 
filled with the legendary lore of these wild regions. She 
opened her stores to us, and, as she sat sewing, kept our 
interest alive till nearly midnight, telling us of stormy 
times, interspersed with many romantic incidents during 
the early days when the Mormons first crossed the plains, 
previous to making their home among the mountains, 
when the railway was unplanned, unthought of, and wagon 
trains of adventurous men and women made their slow 
and hazardous pilgrimage to the Western World. 

The next morning we took the train to Salt Lake City, 
and found ourselves plunged at once in the world of 
Mormonland. 




CHAPTER X. 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. 




Salt Lake — Our Mormon Conductor — Mormon "Wives — Their 
Daughters — Their Recruits — Their Agricultural Population. 

]HERE are few passengers on board the train 
as we steam through the suburban districts of 
Mormonland. The magnificent chain of the 
Wahsatch Mountains rising in the east, and the great Salt 
Lake stretching away toward the west, the rest of the scene 
made up of fertile lands, green meadows, fields of yellow 
corn, and purple clover, form an enchanting panorama as 
we fly past them ; we are full of an undefined curiosity 
and anxious to see this City of the Saints of which we 
have heard so much. We soon discover that none but 
the " Saints " are employed on board this train, none but 
Mormon faces gather round us, they check our baggage, 
punch our tickets, and render us every necessary courtesy, 
which would do credit to the gentlest of Gentiles. Our 
conductor seems disposed to make himself quite at home ; 
he takes a seat beside us, and commences a pleasant con- 
versation ; he knows we are from England, and proceeds 
to give us ail kinds of miscellaneous and useful informa- 

I02 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. I03 

tlon. He points out the different features in the landscape, 
and tells us of thrifty villages and thriving farms which are 
scattered among the mountains. He talks freely of the 
flourishing condition of the City of the Saints ; but he 
avoids any special allusion to the peculiarities of the 
saints themselves. During our two hours' run from Ogden 
to Salt Lake City he grows more and more sociably dis- 
posed. We try to guide the conversation into the channel 
where we desire it should go. We wonder whether he is 
a Mormon or one of the Gentile sect, which is now numer- 
ously represented in that once exclusive land. We ask the 
question pointblank. 

"Yes, ma'am, I'm proud to say I am," he answers, 
swelling with invisible glory ; it is now he informs us that 
the whole line of railway was built by the Mormon people, 
and is exclusively run by them, no other labour being 
employed. 

" I came here," he adds, " when I was six years old, 
when our people were forced to leave Nauvoo. I remem- 
ber trotting along by my mother's side as we were driven 
out of the city at the point of the bayonet, the soldiers 
pricking and goading us like cattle. I shall never forget 
that time, — never, if I live to be a hundred years old ; but 
we pulled through, and here we are in the most beautiful 
and flourishing valley in the whole wide world." 

"And — I am afraid my question may seem imperti- 
nent — but may I ask how many wives you have ? " I ask, 
growing bolder. He laughs, pulls off his cap, and exhibits 
a remarkably fine mass of bright brown curls. 

"See my head of hair ! " he exclaims. "Well, I have 



104 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

only got one wife ; if I took home another, this head of 
mine would be sand-papered ! There are scores of us," 
he added, "who never dream of taking more than one 
wife." 

" Then polygamy is not imposed on you as a part of 
your reHgion ? " I inquire. 

" Certainly not ; but it is our right if we choose to adopt 
it. It is different now from the early days, when it was 
necessary, for our good God's sake, that his people of 
Zion should increase and multiply, so as to fill the king- 
dom of heaven." I felt disposed to suggest that the 
kingdom of heaven might perhaps be able to get along 
without the aid of Brigham Young's progeny, but as that 
observation might appear irreverent I withheld it, and he 
continued : " For my part I've found that one wife is quite 
as much as I can manage. I've never felt inclined to in- 
crease my family that way, and I don't beHeve there is a 
happier man in all Salt Lake than I am." 

We reach the City of the Saints at last, and find it as 
fair and beautiful as we had expected. It is in truth an 
oasis in a desert, a blooming garden in a wilderness of 
green. We can scarcely conceive how this flowery world 
has lifted itself from the heart of desolation ; it is only one 
more proof that the intellect and industry of man can 
master the mysteries of nature, and force her in her most 
harsh uncompromising moods to bring forth fair fruits. 
It lies in a deep wide valley, bounded on the east by the 
mighty range of the Wahsatch Mountains, which lift their 
lonely ice-crowned heads far into the skies, their rugged 
stony feet stretching away and reaching towards the west, 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. 105 

where the great Salt Lake unrolls its dark waters, and 
widens and wanders away until it is lost in the distance. 
The streets are wide, the houses of all sorts and sizes, 
some one storey high, some two or even three, all built in 
different styles, or no style of architecture ; each man 
having built his dwelling in accordance with his own taste 
or convenience. The streets are all arranged in long 
straight rows, and stretch away till they seem to crawl up 
the mountain-sides and then are lost. On either side of 
the roadways are magnificent forest- trees, which in sum- 
mer-time must form a most delightful shade, though now 
it is autumn and the leaves are falling fast. Streams of 
water with their pleasant gurgling music flow on either 
side, through a deep cutting (which we should irreverently 
call the gutter), rushing along as though they were in a 
hurry to reach some everlasting sea. The women come 
out with their buckets and help themselves, while the 
children sail their toy boats, clapping their hands gleefully 
as the tiny craft is tossed, and tumbled, and borne along 
on the face of the bubbling water. Street-cars come crawl- 
ing along the straight streets, crossing and recrossing each 
other at different points ; but a private cab or carriage is 
rarely to be seen. Every house, be it only composed of a 
single room, is surrounded by a plot of garden ground, 
where fruits, flowers, and vegetables all grow together in 
loving companionship. Everything seems flourishing, and 
everybody seems well-to-do ; there are no signs of poverty 
anywhere ; no bare-footed whining beggars fill the streets ; 
tramps there may be, passing from one part of the State to • 
another, but these are all decently dressed and well fed. 



I06 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

for at whatever door they knock they are sure to find food 
and shelter, charity to those in need being a part of the 
reigning reUgion. 

The children who swarm on all sides are the healthiest, 
rosiest, happiest looking urchins conceivable ; some per- 
fectly beautiful specimens of young humanity. One felt 
sorry to think they must develop into the bewhiskered man 
or befrizzled woman ; there was not a pale or sickly face 
in all the multitude. There are no signs of rank or fash- 
ion anywhere ; there are no drones lounging about in this 
community, they are all busy bees ; every man and every 
woman, too, does his or her share in the labour market, all 
according to their special abilities ; and here is the only 
true republic in all America, elsewhere it is the name and 
not the thing. Here republicanism exists in its genuine 
form ; it is not a commune, and encourages no communis- 
tic principles. Here every one must work, uniting therein 
for the common good of all. Wealth, represented by gold 
or other possessions, is unequally distributed as in other 
large cities. Some live in large houses, some in small, 
some wear broadcloth, some wear frieze ; but the man 
who labours with his hands and the man who works with 
his brain, those who plan and those who execute, live 
together in a common brotherhood — for they are equally 
well educated, and have grown up in or helped to make 
the world they live in. The idle or the dissolute are 
speedily hunted out of the community. There is an 
equality in tone and manner among all conditions of 
people which strikes rather discordantly upon our ideas 
of the harmony of things, but we soon get used to it. We 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. lO/ 

meet with a general pleasant courtesy, which is never vul- 
gar, never over-free ; there is a sense of equality, a sort of 
" one man as good as another," which is always felt though 
never obstrusively asserted. The woman who washes 
your linen, and the man who wheels your baggage, do 
it with a sort of courteous friendliness, considering that 
you are as much obliged to them as they to you ; no kind 
of manual labour is looked upon as discreditable or below 
the dignity of any man. I have seen a Mormon bishop, 
in his shirt sleeves and corduroys, working hard in a 
timber-yard or carpentering at a bench. Schools and 
churches of all denominations and creeds abound ; every 
child has a right to an equal education at the expense of 
the State of Utah. The Mormon city is now by no means 
held sacred to the Mormons, for people of all nations 
come flocking thither, erecting their own places of wor- 
ship, and following their own faith. A plot of land has 
been lately set apart for a Jewish synagogue j but woe upon 
any one of them who shall attempt to interfere or win a 
single proselyte from the Mormon fold. While liberal 
(with a forced liberality, perhaps) towards other relig- 
ions, they are devoted to their own ; and in all social and 
domestic matters, they keep as much apart from the op- 
posing forces as though they lived in different kingdoms. 
In all business relations they mix freely enough, and have 
extensive trading transactions with all nations, and carry 
on their operations with a shrewdness and tact which is 
popularly supposed to be the reigning characteristic of the 
" Jewish persuasion." There is no exclusion where the 
" almighty dollar " is concerned. They allow no chance 



I08 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

of money-making to flow past them. Signs of prosperity 
and plenty are everywhere ; to the mere passer-by or 
transient traveller, who can judge from outward appear- 
ances only, the State of Utah is the most flourishing in 
the Union. With its mines^its metals, its marvellous agri- 
cultural productions, its wealth of fruits and flowers, it 
seems as though the horn of plenty emptied itself in the 
lap of this favoured land. Out of doors in the streets the 
brisk, bustling population are crowding to and fro, all is 
gay and bright ; the sun shines, the genial air stirs and in- 
vigorates the spirit, the pulse beats to healthful music, 
while the surrounding scene of swelling hills and glorious 
mountains is beautiful to behold. It is only on the thresh- 
old of home that the shadow falls ; indeed, there is no 
such thing as home, regarding it from our point of view, 
as the centre of domestic happiness, of affectionate inter- 
course, and mutual confidence ; it simply does not and 
cannot exist. When the interests and the affections are 
subdivided into so many different channels, they flow in a 
weak, sluggish spirit through all. I have had the good 
fortune to get an insight into the inner lives of the Mor- 
mon women, and have seen the skeleton grinning on their 
hearthstones. They are well cared for so far as creature 
comforts are concerned. The wives of the wealthier 
classes have handsome, well-furnished houses, and devote 
themselves to the care and education of their children ; 
but there is a gloom and emptiness at their firesides, a 
vacant place, which is filled only with a mockery, an un- 
real shadow. He who is the head of one household to- 
day hangs up his hat in another home to-morrow. The 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. 109 

ladies of refined, cultivated minds, and there are many of 
them, have a patient-waiting look upon their faces painful 
to behold ; it seems as though the cross they carry is 
sometimes heavier than they can bear, and they long to 
lay it down and be at rest. My remarks do not apply 
indiscriminately to all, for there are many wives who are 
perfectly happy in the polygamic state ; women to whom 
the children are more than the husband, whose maternal 
instincts are much stronger than their conjugal affections. 
This type of womanhood is not specially restricted to 
Mormonland ; but to women of a more delicate spiritual 
organization, who feel the necessity of loving and being 
loved in the divinest, purest sense, this life of divided 
affections is torture. They live a life of daily crucifixion 
of spirit. They suffer doubly, as they are imbued with a 
strong sense of religion and believe that polygamy is right ; 
indeed, one of God's holy ordinances. They are con- 
stantly engaged in a spiritual warfare, struggling with and 
against themselves. The voice of nature rebelling against 
her enforced bondage is regarded as the voice of the evil 
one, to be stilled only by prayers and self- mortification. 
The Mormon ladies are not the light-minded, sensuous 
race they are popularly supposed to be ; on the contrary, 
they are grave, earnest women, strong in the faith they 
have been brought up in ; their minds are completely 
under the control of their bishops and elders, whose 
words are to them as the written law of the Lord. It is 
impossible for any legislation from the outer world to 
remedy this evil ; it lies in the spirit of the people beyond 
the reach of human hands. It is easy enough to strike 



no THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

the chains from the body, but it is impossible to free the 
mind from the bondage of a superstitious faith. Polyg- 
amy is an ulcer at the root of their religion ; it may be 
dispersed by time and careful treatment, but can never 
be torn out. 

The greater number of the present generation of Mor- 
mon women were born there, or from their infancy have 
drank in witTi their mothers' milk the teaching of their 
elders, until it has grown into the essence of their lives ; 
how could it be otherwise ? Until late years there had 
been no communication between Salt Lake City and the 
outer world. They knew nothing but what they were 
taught by those whose interest it was to keep them in a 
state of spiritual bondage. Their parents, in a frenzy of 
religious fervour, had traversed the wilderness, struggled 
through famine, and fire, and sword, had gone through 
the valley of the shadow of death in search of this 
modern Zion shut in by inaccessible mountains ; their 
children were bred and born in a whirl of enthusiasm, 
and naturally inherited the spirit as well as the life of 
their parents. So much for the present generation of 
matrons ; but they are passing away, and things are look- 
ing brighter for the rising population, since the railway 
has brought civilization with its train of worldly vanities 
into their midst, and the voice of their sister women has 
reached their ears, to say nothing of the Gentiles who 
swarm around them, and whose very presence must have 
a subtle influence over them. A change has come over 
the irreverent spirit of youth. The girls are rather shy of 
entering into polygamous marriages ; they have seen 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. Ill 

enough, and seem to have no desire to enact their 
mothers' lives over again. Their suitors sigh in vain. 
The Mormon girls, as a rule, are very beautiful, with fine 
eyes, and soft, rich complexions like a peach-blossom, and 
seem disposed to join the general march onwards. In one 
of our saunters through the city we met two bright, 
blooming young girls, about seventeen, two of the many 
granddaughters of Brigham Young, gay, happy-looking 
creatures. It would be terrible to think they w^ould ever 
sink into the faded, woe-worn Mormon wife. 

I admired their city, and inquired if they would be 
content to live always at Salt Lake ? 

" Oh dear, no ! " said the youngest and prettiest. " I 
want to go to Paris to study music ; then, if I like, I can 
come back here and teach, you know," she added with a 
roguish laugh. 

" And I should like to go to Europe to study medicine. 
I shall never rest here," said her cousin ; "and I think I 
am going next spring." 

This is a tolerable sample of the spirit which now ani- 
mates the young people. The Church has to send its 
elders across the sea in search of recruits for the matri- 
monial market, and they rarely fail to return with a good 
supply as regards quantity ; for the quality I would not 
vouch. During our stay at Salt Lake some half-dozen 
elders returned from one of these foraging expeditions, 
and brought back a few score of emigrants, both men 
and women, some with large families, but all of a most 
unpromising appearance. It seemed as though they had 
raked the social gutter, and brought thither the scum of 



112 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

all nations ; for a more stolid, stupid-looking set of people 
I never saw. Well, insomuch as they rescue these poor 
creatures from stifling courts and alleys, the regions of 
poverty, ignorance, and dirt, where they have scarcely air 
to breathe or food to eat, they are doing a good work. 
Immediately on their arrival at Salt Lake these people are 
sent off to the agricultural districts, where so many acres 
of fertile land is awarded to each family, together with 
wood and all necessary materials for running up a house, 
and they commence to farm on a small scale, raising stock 
or grain as may be most expedient. If a man be intelli- 
gent and industrious he may speedily become a thriving 
farmer and landowner in one of the most beautiful valleys 
in the world. So far, if the Mormons let them alone, all 
would be well, but they don't ; they teach them their 
religion, and the men are apt scholars. The seeds of 
polygamy once sown in the agricultural mind, it grows 
and flourishes like the rank weeds among their golden 
grain, and it is universally adopted. If a man wants a 
dairymaid, a cook, or even a scarecrow — he marries one. 
A large amount of field labour is done by women, and 
they, in most cases, are the wives of their employers. 
Polygamy seems to work well enough in the rural dis- 
tricts ; quite different from its manifestations in the large 
cities, where the women have more time to brood and to 
feel ; besides, the people are of a different calibre, and 
are drawn from a lower rank in life. I once drank tea at 
a farmhouse, far removed from the noisy city ; there were 
four or five of the farmer's wives, all busily engaged in 
their several duties ; one was looking after the washing 



THE CITY OF THE SAINTS. II3 

and ironing, another was making up and packing butter 
and eggs for market, others were passing to and fro, while 
the children swarmed like bees on all sides of us, their 
chattering voices and merry laughter making the only- 
music that is ever heard in that solitary homestead. The 
farmer took us round the farmyard to show us his pigs, 
poultry, and cattle ; we seized an opportunity to remark 
upon his feminine household, and expressed a wonder 
that so many wives managed to get along without jarring. 
" They've got too much work to do to think of quarrel- 
ling ; besides, they're all in one boat, you know — no one 
has got a pull over the other ; and so long as folks don't 
come spying around, putting rubbish into their heads, 
they will be content to live — for the glory of God." 





CHAPTER XI. 

AMONG THE MORMONS. 

Society — A Mormon Wife's View — The Shops — Amelia Palace — The 
Tabernacle — The Organ — Endowment House — A Mormon Widow 
— Currency in the Old Days — The Elders Hold Forth. 

URING our stay in Salt Lake City we found 
the Mormons most friendly and genial in their 
disposition towards us ; but they do not like 
to talk of their religion ; to the ladies especially the sub- 
ject is distasteful ; neither do they care to receive into 
their houses visitors from the Gentile world. They have 
been so vexed and annoyed by the indiscreet questions of 
curious tourists that they are disposed to shut their doors 
upon the whole race. Through the influence of some 
friends in England I made the acquaintance of a Mormon 
wife, who admitted me within her family circle, where I 
received advantages which are accorded to few strangers. 
She has travelled a great deal in Europe, but is now per- 
manently settled in a beautiful house in the centre of the 
city ; her mind has been enlarged and enlightened during 
her sojourn abroad, and, though still a good Mormon, 
she has withdrawn from polygamy and left her husband 

114 



AMONG THE MORMONS. II5 

in the full possession of three other wives ; perhaps they 
suffice to absorb his conjugal affections. At her house I 
met some pleasant Mormon families. Gentlemen do not 
escort a battalion of wives to these social gatherings, but 
each accompanies the particular wife to whom he is for 
the time devoted. No favour must be shown ; his affec- 
tions must be weighed to a fraction, and divided equally 
between the several claimants thereto. The ladies were 
refined and pleasant enough ; I cannot say much for the 
gentlemen. The Mormon men are genial and good- 
natured, but as a rule are coarse and sensual-looking, full 
of the physical strength and energies of healthy life ; one 
cannot imagine a bad digestion or ill-regulated liver 
among them. 

Everybody asked us "how we liked Salt Lake." That 
question being satisfactorily answered at least fifty times 
in the course of an hour, we talked and chatted in much 
the same fashion as the rest of the world would have 
done under similar circumstances. Knowing that the 
typical state of society here was utterly different to that 
in any other part of the world, we were in a vague state 
of expectation and excitement, and watched for some 
indication of it to come to the surface ; we watched in 
vain. It was the same here as elsewhere. In general 
society all the world over, there is a frothy bubble of 
conversation carried on ; little is said that is worth re- 
peating, indeed that is worth saying. I received a good 
deal of local information, and was both amused and 
interested in the gossip that gradually grew into circula- 
tion. Late in the evening, while chatting more confiden- 



Il6 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

tially to a coterie of ladies, I tried to seize the helm, and 
without any actual breach of good breeding to steer the 
conversation towards matrimonial matters, but on that sub- 
ject they were scrupulously silent. They were delighted to 
talk of their children ; some, and they were young-looking 
matrons too, told me they had " fourteen blessings ; " 
others who had not had time to produce such a growth of 
humanity seemed, however, to be doing their best to 
increase the population as fast as they could. 

A woman is appreciated and respected according to 
the number of her children ; those who have no family 
are merely tolerated or set aside as "no account." As 
a rule the childless wives live together under one roof, 
while those " more highly favoured of the Lord " have 
separate houses, and are more honourably regarded. 

I visited one lady, the wife of a wealthy merchant, an 
English gentleman who had outraged his family connec- 
tions and nailed his colours to the Morinon mast, though 
he had at no time indulged in the luxury of more than 
two wives, and at present has only one. Their residence 
is extremely beautiful ; it is built in the fashion of an old- 
fashioned country house, with gabled roof and pointed 
windows, and stands in a large garden, beautifully laid 
out with rare shrubs and luxuriant flowers, a lovely home ; 
the mistress thereof is a stately, noble-looking woman, 
with a grave earnest face, and eyes that seemed to be 
looking far away from this world into the next. There 
were two or three young children playing with their toys 
on the hearth-rug ; some others were having a game at 
hide and seek, " whooping" in the garden. It seemed to 



AMONG THE MORMONS. 11/ 

me that a whole school had been let loose to enjoy a 
holiday. 

" Surely," I exclaimed, " these children cannot all be 
yours? " 

" They are, and they are not," she answered, " I have " 
fourteen children ; some are still in the nursery, some are 
out in the world. Those," she added, indicating a pair 
of toddlers on the hearthrug, " belong to my sister wife, 
who died about a year ago ; but they are the same as 
mine ; they know no difference. Our children were all 
born under one roof, and we have mothered them in 
turn." 

" This must be an unusual state of affairs," I ventured 
to remark, '' even in Salt Lake. I should hardly have 
thought it possible that two ladies could have lived hap- 
pily together under such circumstances." 

" Nevertheless it is true," she answered. 

" But do you mean to say," I urged, " that you never 
feel any petty jealousies ? " 

" I do not say that," she said somewhat sharply. " We 
are none of us perfect, and are all liable to the evil 
influence of earthly passions ; but when we feel weak and 
failing we pray to God to help us, and He does." 

"You are a strange people," I could not help observing. 
" In no other place in the world could such a state of 
things exist." 

" Because nowhere else would you have the same faith 
to support you." 

" But would you desire your daughters to enter into a 
polygamous marriage ? " I persisted. 



Il8 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

" If I could choose," she answered gravely, " they should 
each be the one wife to a good husband ; but that must be 
as God pleases. Whatever their destiny may be their re- 
ligion will help them to bear it." 

Evidently desiring to end the conversation, she invited 
us into the garden, showed us her greenhouse, and gathered 
us some flowers, and we took our leave, having spent a 
dehghtful afternoon. 

" I am afraid I have been more inquisitorial than good 
breeding sanctions," I said apologetically; " but how can 
I gain any information unless I ask for it ? " 

" I am very glad to have seen you," she replied, with a 
cordial hand-shake, " though as a rule I do not care to 
receive strangers — so many come with no introductions 
and intrude upon our privacy, and ask us questions, and 
then circulate false reports about us. They seem to 
regard us as zoological curiosities ; quite forgetting that 
our homes are as sacred to us as theirs are to them. We 
used to be very hospitable," she added, " but now we 
receive no one unless they are introduced to us as you 
have been." 

The Mormons are very fond of theatricals and are great 
patrons of the drama. A good company there is sure to 
draw a good audience. The patriarchal days, when 
Brigham's large family formed the greater part of audience 
and actors too, are past ; they have a commodious theatre, 
so far as size is concerned, but it is a square brick barn- 
like building to look at. The business streets are lined 
with shops, which are amply stocked with all necessary 
and some superfluous articles, but the windows are not 



AMONG THE MORMONS. II9 

what we call " dressed " to attract the passer-by, but are 
exhibited in a higgledy-piggledy sort of fashion ; the 
owners sit behind their counters or lounge in the doorways 
reading the news, and think nothing of keeping you wait- 
ing while they finish reading a paragraph, and seem 
supremely indifferent whether you buy or not. A spirit 
of piety inspires their business transactions, a godly text 
being placed over the doorway, and sometimes being 
woven into the mat at your feet. They have a large co- 
operative store in the main street, with an inscription in 
large gold letters running along the top : " Holiness to 
the Lord." There is very little in the city that is archi- 
tecturally worth looking at, with the exception, perhaps, 
of the Amelia Palace, which is a large and very elegant 
mansion, built in the modern villa style, with a great deal 
of ornamentation. It is reported that Brigham Young 
erected and presented this beautiful residence to his 
youngest and prettiest wife, favouring her so much above 
the rest ; but this is indignantly denied by the Saints 
generally. 

"Brigham" (whose name is held in great reverence 
among them) " had no favourite," they say. " The 
Amelia Palace, so called because she once stayed in it 
for a few days, was built expressly for the reception and 
entertainment of strangers and visitors of distinction, and 
for no other purpose." Unfortunately its promoter died 
a short time after its completion, and it seems to be a 
bone of contention among the Mormons, and looks as 
lonely and deserted as though it had been thrown into 
chancery. They are also building a new tabernacle for 



120 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

winter use, which has been«some years in the course of 
erection, but will be finished now within a few months. 
It is built of white granite hewn from quarries in the 
State of Utah, and is being constructed in a highly orna- 
mental and imposing style ; it is to be used for all general 
services during ther cold weather, owing to the great dif- 
ficulty in warming the larger tabernacle, which stands a 
few hundred feet off. This far-famed structure strikes 
one as a huge monstrosity, a tumour of bricks and mortar 
rising on the face of the earth. It is a perfectly plain 
egg-shaped building, studded with heavy entrance doors 
all around ; there is not the slighest attempt at ornamen- 
tation of any kind ; it is a mass of ugliness ; the inside is 
vast, dreary, and strikes one with a chill, as though enter- 
ing a vault ; it is 250 feet long and 80 feet high ; its 
acoustic properties are wonderful — the voice of him who 
occupies the rostrum can be distinctly heard in the re- 
motest corner of the building. If you whisper at one 
end your words are repeated aloud at the other, without 
being caught up and hunted through every crevice by 
ghostly mocking echoes. A gallery runs all around, sup- 
ported by rows of thin, helpless-looking pillars. The seats 
in the body of the building are raised on sloping ground, 
like the pit of a theatre, — a wide expanse of empty benches, 
dreary and depressing to the wandering eye, which finds 
no pleasant spot to dwell upon. In the centre stands a 
fountain with four plaster-of-Paris lions cotuhafif, poor, 
mangy-looking beasts at best. From the white plastered 
ceiling or dome, being concave perhaps it may be called 
so, hangs a gigantic star, hung round with artificial flowers 



AMONG THE MORMONS. 121 

and evergreen pendants, something like a monstrous 
jack-in-the-green turned upside down. The whole inte- 
rior is gloomy and dark ; I doubt if people could ever 
see to read their prayers. At one end of this huge barn- 
like building hangs an immense blue banner emblazoned 
with a golden beehive, which flaunts over the heads of 
the faithful. At the other end stands an organ, the 
largest in the world they say, and it may be so, for it is 
certainly immense. They are justly proud of it, for it is 
of home manufacture entirely, and was built precisely 
where it stands, under the supervision of an English con- 
vert named Ridges, and contains upwards of a thousand 
pipes, some of such a circumference you feel as though 
you could wander up and down them, and be lost in a 
world of music. Notwithstanding its immense size, it has 
not a single harsh or metallic sound ; on the contrary, it 
is marvellously soft-toned ; from the low flutelike wailing 
voice of the vox humana to the deep bass roll which stirs 
the air like a wave of melodious thunder, it has all the 
delicacy of the ^olian harp, with the strength and power 
of its thousand brazen voices. The case is of polished 
pine of elegant and simple design. All the wood, metal, 
and other material used was brought from the forests or 
mines of Utah. Sloping down from the organ towards 
the auditorium are semicircular rows of seats, for the 
elders and dignitaries of the Church. In the centre is a 
desk with a shabby blue sofa behind it ; this was used by 
Brigham Young and his two chief councillors. Below 
this are the seats for the twelve apostles and for the 
choir, and benches where the elders may congregate to 



122 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

consult together. In front of all this combination stands 
a long narrow table, an altar perhaps it may be called, 
covered with a red cloth, whereon is arranged a gorgeous 
array of silver cups, of all shapes and sizes, as though 
prepared for an unlimited christening party or an ever- 
lasting service libation to some heathen deity rather than 
to a Christian God. Passing out from the tabernacle we 
glanced at the Endowment House, where many of their 
religious ceremonies are performed, and where, if rumour 
speaks truly, gross licentiousness is carried on under the 
sanction of the Church — where some ugly secrets and 
mysteries lie hidden, of which no one can speak and live. 
Across the road stands the president's office, and next to 
that the '' Beehive House " of Brigham Young notoriety. 
It is a long, low-roofed, adobe building, railed in, a 
desolate-looking place where, in old days, some dozen of 
his wives were domiciled ; it is now occupied by his 
widows — some of them. A high stone wall filled in with 
adobe incloses the president's residence and many other 
buildings, with arched gateways and heavy wooden gates ; 
there is a double archway leading to some factories and 
stables, surmounted by a beehive in the grip of a mon- 
strous eagle — an illustration of the Mormon faith in the 
cruel clutch of the Stars and Stripes. Close by is the 
school-house, first erected for the sole education of Brig- 
ham Young's family, which was large enough to fill it ; it 
is now devoted to the benefit of the masses. The whole 
of these buildings are crowded together, and are generally 
surrounded by a high wall, which gives them a gloomy 
"appearance, suggestive of an Eastern harem. There is, 



AMONG THE MORMONS. 123 

however, a wide difference between the Mohammedan 
and the Mormon — the two polygamic nations. Whereas 
the former; keep their women in a state of slavery, idle- 
ness, and ignorance, the Mormons give their w^omen every 
possible advantage of education, and permit, nay encour- 
age, them to take their part in the world's work and in 
the management of affairs generally. 

The Mormon marriage-vow reads "for time and eter- 
nity ! " There are, however, forms of matrimony " for 
time " and "for eternity" alone, and the one may be con- 
tracted independently of the other. Thus, a man may, 
and frequently does, marry a widow " for time," under 
the obligation to hand her back to her deceased lord 
"for eternity." A woman may, by gracious permission of 
the head of the Church, seal herself in " celestial mar- 
riage" to any deceased saint she may elect to honour 
with her preference. Also, a marriage may be arranged 
by the living for the dead. I heard of a case wherein 
a widow, anxious lest her lord should feel lonely in the 
celestial spheres, shortly after her bereavement hastened 
to the Endowment House to seal to the beloved lost, not 
one, but two dear friends of hers. I inquired whether 
the two brides would not consider it a wasteful proceeding 
to bestow themselves on the dead ? " Oh no," answered 
my informant gravely, "of course they were dead too." 

This presented rather a ludicrous picture to my mind's 
eye ; there is evidently no escape for the Mormon from 
the evils of this world, even though he flies into the next, 
where good Christians hope to find peace. I imagined the 
seraph's surprise, perhaps dismay, at finding two cherubs 



124 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

in full chase accredited claimants to his eternal affections, 
whether he would or not. 

We paid a visit to President Taylor at his office, with an 
ar7'iere peiisee that he might present us to his wives, but he 
did not. He received us most courteously, and we spent a 
pleasant half-hour in the exchange of polite nothings ; he 
pointed out to us the portraits of the brothers Smith, the 
founders of their faith, which hung upon the walls, but 
when we tried to bring about a discussion upon the Mor- 
mon faith, or the working of that faith upon the Mormon 
people, we ignominiously failed. He is a remarkably fine- 
looking man, about seventy, with a rather large loose 
mouth and cunning gray eyes, which look as though they 
would never let you see what was going on behind them. 

In the old days before the railway reached them, when 
the city was first settled, indeed for long afterwards, there 
was no money in circulation, and the Mormons lived on a 
general exchange system. A facetious record of the time 
says : " A farmer wishes for a pair of shoes, gives a load 
of wood in exchange, and is straightway shod ; he gives a 
calf for a pair of pantaloons ; seven water-melons are paid 
for admission to the theatre. One man paid seventy-five 
cabbage per quarter for the teaching of his children. The 
dressmaker received for her services four squashes per 
day. The Church dues were settled in molasses. Two 
loads of pumpkins paid a subscription to the newspaper. 
A treatise on Celestial Marriage was bought for a load of 
gravel. And the cost of a bottle of soothing syrup for the 
baby was a bushel of string beans." 

All this is changed now : there is plenty of gold and 



AMONG THE MORMONS. 125 

silver in circulation, and the general exchange system, 
once universal, is now dead. 

The matter of marriage is very simply conducted ; if a 
man desires to make an addition to his family in the shaj^e 
of a wife, he makes such desire known to the president of 
his Church with whose permission he proposes to her, she 
of course, as in all Christian countries, having the right to 
refuse or accept him. On the other hand, if a lady has 
any predilection for a certain gentleman, she is encouraged 
to make her preference known to him, her tender feeling 
being considered as a prompting of nature which ought to 
be obeyed. 

We were anxious to hear the holding forth at the Tab- 
ernacle on Sunday morning, and went early to secure good 
seats. Slowly the auditorium, galleries and all, filled to 
overflowing, with a motley set of people who seemed to set 
worldly fashion at defiance. There were some elderly heads 
in corkscrew curls and poke bonnets, trimmed with sad- 
coloured ribbons or faded flowers ; some of the coal-scuttle 
celebrity projecting till you only got a telescopic view of 
the faded face within it. As a rule they wore short scanty 
skirts and old-fashioned kerchiefs or shawls pinned across 
their breasts. Such a collection of antiquated millinery 
and quaint combination of colours it would have been 
difficult to find elsewhere. Here and there a pretty young 
face bloomed from an artistic arrangement of lace and 
flowers, as though the hand of a French milliner had 
dropped it from the skies. An occasional parody on the 
famous Devonshire hat loomed upon our sight. One or 
two were got up like fashion plates direct from press. It 



126 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

was a strange combination of the Old World and the New. 
Manhood was represented in a similar fashion. Some in 
top-boots, frieze jackets, and stubble head of hair, with 
gay-coloured bandannas round their throats. Others in 
misfitting suits hanging loosely on their ungainly limbs. 
There was a sprinkling of dandyism among them in frock- 
coats with flowers in their button-holes ; but broadcloth 
and fine linen generally occupied seats near the organ, and 
were grouped around where the elders and priesthood were 
seated in great solemnity. 

I was sorry to learn there was to be no general service 
on this Sabbath morning; four of the elders had just 
returned from Europe, and were to stand forth and give 
an account of themselves to the community. The service 
(for so I must call it for want of a better word) commenced 
with prayer, which seemed rather to carry an assurance of 
their own worthiness to the throne of grace than a suppli- 
cation for its mercy ; then the organ poured forth its vol- 
ume of rich sounds, and the voices of the thousands present 
united in a grand old hymn, glorious to hear. That ended, 
a young elder, clean shaven and in funereal black, stood up 
in the rostrum, in front of the table, and held forth : " He 
had travelled under the guidance of a special providence" 
(he spoke as though it were a special train), " and claimed 
the thanks of the multitude for his safe return." Then 
commenced a tirade of self-glorification ; not a word of 
supplication, of prayer, or praise fell from his lips ; his 
moral attitude was one of exultant vanity, as though he 
and they had absorbed all piety, all virtue, and left not a 
grain for the hungry world outside. He talked a mass of 



AMONG THE MORMONS. 12/ 

irreverent twaddle, as though he were in the secrets of the 
Almighty Ruler of men ; he communicated to those pres- 
ent the private information which he had received direct 
from heaven, " that that modern Babylon, that most foul 
and evil city of Great Britain, whence he had just returned, 
should be destroyed by the fire of God's wrath ! Not one 
would be saved, not one, except those few brands which 
^^ had plucked from the burning" (those brands being 
represented by an awkward squad of ignorant humanity, 
who looked as if they had marched in the rear of civiliza- 
tion, and been covered with the dust from its trampling 
feet ; indeed, they seem to have gathered together the scum 
of all nations to be cleansed and purified by the process 
of their patent piety !). He wound up his edifying dis- 
course with the assurance " that the}\ and they otil}\ the 
saints of the modern Zion, who were gathered in that 
sacred valley, could be saved ! While flames of fury were 
licking up the rest of the world, they would be in glory 
singing with harps of gold in their hands ; " indeed, he 
dealt out deatli and damnation to all the rest of the world, 
but grasped salvation as their special right. This assur- 
ance seemed to give general satisfaction, for the poor 
withered faces round me lighted up with a frenzied faith 
and rejoiced in their own election. 

There was little more to be done in Salt Lake, only 
the springs to be visited, and they are neither of them 
a great distance from the city. The sulphur springs are 
about a mile from our hotel, the Walker House, and can 
be reached by horse cars by those who disHke walking. 
At these springs there are baths of all description, Turk- 



128 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ish, Russian, hot-air, etc., beside the natural baths, which 
are lukewarm, and being of a sulphurous nature are very- 
penetrating and delightfully refreshing, providing you do 
not stay in too long. The hot springs are the greatest 
wonder in the city ; there is a small alcove in the lime- 
stone rocks, even with the surface of the ground ; the 
water steams and bubbles up boiling hot, w^ith a tempera- 
ture of 200° ! Eggs can be cooked therein ready for 
table in three minutes. Close by beyond the green mead- 
ows, is a beautiful sheet of water called " Hot Springs 
Lake," which is supposed to be fed by other hot springs 
beneath the surface ; and strange to say, in spite of the 
temperature of the water, some excellent fish are to be 
found there. 

Having conscientiously done our duty, so far as sight- 
seeing was concerned, we bid adieu to Salt Lake City, the 
great social problem of to-day. 




CHAPTER XII. 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 

Ogden Station — Bustling Bedtime — Boots — An Invasion — A "Wed- 
ding Aboard — The American Desert — The Glorious Sierras — 
Cape Horn — Dutch Flats — "Here they are" — A Phantom 
City. 

HE sun is setting. The skies, so beautifully 
blue an hour ago, are changed by some 

celestial alchemy to realms of gold. Pale 

sea-green banners float faintly hither and thither. 
For a moment we seem to get a glimpse of heaven 
''through its gates of gold." Slowly the pale yellow 
changes to a rich red hue, with a rapid mingling of 
amethyst and royal purple, like the jewelled mantle of 
some invisible king, with feathery plumes flying, and 
trains of brilliant cloudlets hurrying across the face of 
the heavens, as though some gorgeous festival was be- 
ing held on high. Then the gray sombre clouds come 
gathering together, like heavy household troops at the 
close of a grand procession, and the brilliant scene is over. 
There is no long dreamy twilight in these regions. The 
sun does not " slowly sink to rest." It drops down in a 
blinking, lazy sort of way, as though it was tired of 
6^ 129 



130 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

shining so long in one place. Its fleecy flock of clouds 
surround it. We have scarcely time to behold its glory ; 
even as we exclaim, " What a gorgeous sunset ! " the 
gates of heaven are closed, and it is night, though a scat- 
tered colony of soft gray shadows still linger among the 
mountains. 

We are at Ogden Station, waiting to resume our jour- 
ney westward. The engine snorts, and spits, and whistles, 
and clanks its iron harness, in a hurry to be off. Lights 
are flashing hither and thither. The nervous man, hot, 
dusty, and with an agonized face, rushes after his bag- 
gage. He will keep an eye on it ; he cannot be per- 
suaded that the baggage-master's certificate is surety for 
its safety. He watches it swallowed up in the van, then 
with a sigh of relief returns, to begin a fresh hurry and 
worry about something else. We feel ourselves quite old, 
experienced travellers by this time, and have learned to 
take things easily. Our nervous friend cannot even eat 
his supper in peace ; he rushes out between every mouth- 
ful to make sure he is not left behind. Presently the 
conductor's well-known call, "All aboard, all aboard," 
greets our ears, and we leisurely walk out upon the plat- 
form. There stands the long line of " silver palace cars." 
(Query : Why " silver," when they are painted bright 
yellow ? ) We have left the rich, brown, sombre-hued 
Pullman cars of the Union Pacific, and are now about to 
resume our journey on the " Central Pacific," in cars of 
gold. An obliging official stands at the entrance of every 
carriage, and shows you to your special section, as court- 
eously as you would be shown into the reception-room of 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. I3I 

a friend. The engine bell, which sounds to us like the 
voice of a friend, sends forth its monotonous " cling clang, 
cling clang," its brazen clangour grows faint and fainter, 
and is still. With a final rattle and a shriek we plunge 
into the night, the sparks, like fiery comets, flying from its 
smoky throat. We strain our eyes for a parting glance at 
the Wahsatch Mountains, glorious in their grand loveli- 
ness, and at the marvellous canons and gorges which we 
know are yawning and opening their, mysterious depths 
en either side of us. But they are wrapped in a weird 
shadowy twilight ; we can only see their dim outline, and 
are left to imagine their darker depths as we fly past 
them. The thin crescent crown of the baby moon was 
visible a while ago, but it has gone now, and the stars 
come out — celestial shepherds keeping watch over their 
fleecy flocks on high. We know we are rushing along by 
the fishless waters of the green salt lake, but we look out 
upon a world of darkness ; we shall see nothing till the 
morning, so turn our thoughts bedward. 

Our car is still in a state of commotion, some people 
are so long settUng down. There is a wiry -looking elderly 
lady in corkscrew curls, who seems as restless and Hvely 
as a summer flea. She bounces from one side of her sec- 
tion to the other, rummaging her satchel, then her valise, 
for something she can't find, fishes a vinaigrette from her 
lunch-basket, and with a grunt of satisfaction sits sniffing 
at it for a while ; then hops up as though she had been 
suddenly pierced with needles, and begins setting things 
tidy. Her section overflows with tiny packages of all 
shapes and sizes. They will fall off the seat and roll into 



132 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

somebody else's section ; she scrambles and dives after 
them, shaking and patting her property as though she had 
just rescued a rat from drowning. She is always losing 
something, and shaking herself to find it. Then came a 
general stir, the letting down of berths and making of 
beds. The gentlemen retired to the smoking room dur- 
ing the preparations for retiring. One by one the ladies 
disappear behind their curtains. Our restless friend van- 
ishes into her berth with a bounce ; her curtains bulge 
and flutter ; at last, with a series of moans and mutterings 
she is still, but not silent, even in her sleep. 

The gentlemen return with a creaking of boots and 
banging of doors. One by one they too disappear. One 
who is " fat and scant of breath " laboriously climbs into 
his berth and rolls into it like a worn-out hippopotamus ; 
another climbs up with the agility of a cat ; a third swings 
himself up as though he were performing an acrobatic 
exercise, then a pair of pantaloons dangle for a moment 
in the air and are suddenly drawn up by their ow^ner, and 
all is peace. There is nothing left of mankind but his 
boots, standing in solemn array along the floor. Any one 
with an eye for character might have gained some knowl- 
edge from a study of these ''boots." The spirit of their 
numerous owners seemed to cling to the uppers or linger 
about the soles. Here was a pair of spick and span 
patent leathers, suggestive of spotless linen and irreproach- 
able character, with not a thought beyond etiquette and 
broadcloth. Others had a careless philosophical look, 
with uncompromising soles, tough uppers, with little or no 
attempt at shining, slightly worn down at the heels, and 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 1 33 

turned up at the toes. Some bulged out in suspicious 
places. Some looked as if they had tramped the world 
through ; others as though they had trod on velvet. 

We slept soundly, lulled by the monotonous swing of 
the carsj till about three o'clock in the morning, when 
there was a slight stir in our car, a gruff rumbling of 
masculine voices. The young lady in the opposite section 
was roused from her slumbers. 

" Get up, miss, please," said the conductor ; ''a gentle- 
man has just boarded the train and wants to speak to you." 

" It is I, Agnes," said a manly voice ; "make haste and 
dress yourself." There was a rustle and flutter behind 
the curtains. 

" What is the matter ? Is there anything wrong ? " said 
the girl's voice in some alarm. 

" Oh no ; I rather think everything is pretty consider- 
ably right," w^as the assuring answer. " Be quick, there's 
a dear girl." 

She made a hasty toilette, and the pair went out upon 
the platform to discuss their plans. A whisper flew round 
with the daylight that there was to be a wedding at the 
place where we were to stop for breakfast. This startling 
intelligence created a general interest. There was a 
whispering and a wondering of the why and the wherefore 
of this strange proceeding. The lovers were too much 
occupied with one another to make any communication 
even had they been disposed to do so. The lady was 
coy ; she hesitated. The idea of a wxdding without 
orange blossoms, bridesmaids, or even a slice of wedding 
cake ! But the bridegroom elect sternly whispered : 



134 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

" Now or never. " From the brief scraps of conversation 
which fell to our ears we gathered the simple fact that 
the engagement was a clandestine one, and was disap- 
proved of by their mutual friends, who were awaiting the 
arrival of the lady at '' Sacramento." Once under their 
influence they would contrive to break it off, and put an 
end to it. The gentleman got an inkling of this, and 
prepared to frustrate their diabolical purpose. He had 

travelled with all speed to , secured the services of 

the judge, and left him waiting there while he came on to 
meet and prepare the lady. While we were quietly taking 
our coffee and eggs those two were made one. A great 
deal of handshaking and good wishes passed round. 

" All aboard, all aboard," came the familiar cry. The 
newly married couple were driven off in an old ramshackle 
chaise, the best the place afforded, in the direction of the 
Black Hills. We had no old shoes to throw after them 
" for luck," but somebody routed out a baby's worsted 
sock and flung it straight into the bride's lap, and they 
drove off amid chatter and laughter and a world of good 
wishes. 

We wake up in the morning and find ourselves speeding 
along the great American desert, a wide expanse of deso- 
lation covered with tiny gray-green buffalo grass, only 
there are no buffaloes now to eat it. It is devoured by 
meaner animals. Looking through our glasses, we see 
what looks like an army of animated ant-hills. We are 
told they are immense herds of cattle, thousands strong, 
who are sent up there to get their own living some months 
of the year, and then descend to the valleys as fat as 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 1 35 

butter, a mine of wealth to their owners. The earth is 
slightly covered with snow, and looks as though it had 
been sprinkled with salt and put in pickle. All is blank 
and bare ; there are no more architectural wonders of the 
great unknown, no more ruined castles and towers stand- 
ing solemnly in the silent air. Hour after hour the earth 
flies beneath the hoofs of our iron horse. We are not 
sorry when the night comes and shuts this desolation from 
our sight, for the day has been a long and a dreary one, 
and we retire early to rest. 

We go to sleep in the dismal, snow-covered heights of 
Nevada, and wake in the glorious, pine-clad forests among 
the foot-hills of the grand Sierras, having passed their 
summit during the night. There is no more glorious sight 
in the whole wide world than this which now opens upon 
our view. We hold our breath, awe- struck and wonder- 
ing, as we swing round the shoulder of the mountain and 
plunge down its rugged sides. We feel as though we were 
rushing through the air. There is nothing but this narrow 
trestle between us and the boiling caldron a hundred feet 
below. We lift our heads and look up at the wonderfully 
wooded heights, where the pointed pines seem to prick 
the skies, and down to the deep valleys below, winding 
through sunless gorges till they are lost in narrow canons 
where the foot of man has never ventured yet, and where 
the grizzly still finds his home undisturbed. All the 
picturesque beauty and solemn grandeur of the wide 
world seems to be gathered together here in this noble 
range of the Sierra Nevadas, covered with all the luxu- 
riance of summer's divinest bloom — a kind of spiritual 



136 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

sunshine, falling straight from heaven on lake and river, 
gorge and canon, covering and glorifying all A beautiful 
purple mist lies in a dreamy softness everywhere. We 
dash round sudden curves and up grade and down grade, 
new and picturesque beauties opening on all sides of us. 
There is a general stir. " We are nearing Cape Horn," 
cries somebody, and in another moment we are speeding 
round a sharp curve, rushing along the face of the moun- 
tain, clinging to the narrow ledge of rock. Our engine 
itself seems dizzy as it swings us round with a shriek and 
a rattle, looking down two thousand feet upon the boiling 
river below. Soon the scene grows more magnificent still, 
the views more vast and extensive ; the wonderful chasms 
are frightful to behold ; the mountains open into wide 
galleries of rocks and boulders, stretching out and upward 
till they are lost in a world of pines and peaks of ice and 
snow. All the Kohinoors that were ever dug out of the 
bosom of the earth are poor and pale before these diamond 
peaks now flashing in the sunlight. We would like to 
stop the train, and get out and wander up into these 
forest mountains and down into the glens, and dabble in 
the sparkling waters, so pure and bright they might be 
flowing direct from the throne of the Almighty God, but 
we are, perforce, carried on. We pass the mining dis- 
tricts of Dutch Flats, where hydraulic operations were 
once extensively carried on, and have broken up and 
ravaged the country round, damaged its fair face in the 
greed for gold, and left but bare and ragged mountain- 
sides, whose gaping wounds are slowly healing and are 
being gradually covered by nature's tender green. We 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 1 37 

can still trace where the immense body of water has been 
hurled against the mountain and torn down hundreds of 
tons of earth and stone, and sand and gold, which were 
all flung down and caught in a series of iron sieves or 
gratings, some charged with quicksilver to attract the 
smaller grains of gold which escaped the sifting process. 

This part of the scenery is interesting from its associa- 
tion with the old, dead days, when the solitude rang with 
the rush and din of thousands, all hurrying and jostling 
one another in their search for gold. The tumble-down 
ruins of the miners' huts are still clinging to the edge of 
the water or at the foot of the broken mountain, like a 
weird memory lingering in the haunts of old. 

We sat silent now, enjoying the genial air. On our first 
view of these glorious Sierras we had run the gamut of our 
unbounded and rapturous delight ; we had pointed out 
our phrases with big notes of mental admiration ; we 
wanted a new coinage of words before we could express 
ourselves. We had grown tired of the old phrases, — for 
the time, at least, — so we sat in silence, letting our eyes 
rest and our thoughts revel on the scenes we were pass- 
ing through. 

Presently our engine-bell began its monotonous " cling 
clang," and we steamed into the station of Sacramento ; 
and there, on a table running along the whole length of the 
platform, an excellent lunch was served. Tea and coffee, 
chicken- salad, ham and eggs, and no end of fruits and 
flowers, were most temptingly laid out ; and here we 
gained our first glimpse of the moon-faced, almond-eyed 
Chinese ofliciating as waiters — clean, quick, and obliging. 



138 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

Having supplied ourselves with all we required, we asked 
of our attentive Celestial — 

" How much to pay ? " 

*'Two bittee," he answered, smiling. 

I inquired again, emphasizing my words. The same 
answer, with an additional grin. Then, speaking slowly, 
severely, in a louder tone, looking sternly in his face, I re- 
peated, pausing between each word — 

" I — want — to — pay." 

" Two bittee," he answered, grinning from ear to ear, 
and looking so pleased with himself that I felt inclined to 
laugh too. 

" Twenty-five cents," explained a gentleman at my 
elbow. " They count in bits here, and two bits is twenty- 
five cents." 

By this time I had noticed two gentlemen and a lady 
searching eagerly among the passengers, evidently for 
somebody they could not find. Having scanned all the 
faces assembled on the platform, they wandered from one 
end of the en^pty cars to the other. Then held a brief 
consultation together, 

*' So very strange," I heard one say. " She certainly 
started from Chicago. We'd better telegraph." 

I fancy they are searching for the bride. They will 
search long before they find her. She is far away, up in 
the Black Hills by this time. But nobody attempts to put 
the clue in the hands of her seekers. 

After a stop of twenty minutes we resumed our way in 
very jubilant spirits. We knew we were nearing our jour- 
ney's end. We passed through the beautiful Valley of 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 1 39 

Sacramento, all abloom with fruits and flowers and aglow 
with the glorious sunshine. We took in every feature of 
the landscape, though we were watching eagerly the while, 
and looking forward to the first glimpse of the Golden 
City. We gathered our things together, then commenced 
to smarten ourselves up to make a decent appearance in 
the face of the New World. In another hour we shall be 
there. We make a few minutes' halt at San Pablo, and 
are just putting a few finishing touches to our toilette, when 
" Here they are ! " cries a familiar voice. We look up, 
and there is the well-known face of an old friend, come out 
from the strange world to greet us. And how glad we are 
to be so greeted ! There is a good deal of laughter, an 
exchange of gossip from the Old World to the New. We 
speed through the streets of Oakland, our bell " ding- 
donging " to warn the people out of our way. There are 
shops and houses on either side ; people are flocking to 
and fro on the sidewalks, buying and selling, some loung- 
ing lazily gossiping over the garden gates among the tall 
hollyhocks and big tuberose trees. They glance indiffer- 
ently at us as we rush along, as though it was quite a com- 
mon thing for people to come three thousand miles over 
desert and mountain to visit their wonderland. We pull 
up at Oakland Ferry, having been for the last ten minutes 
skimming over the face of the water on an invisible tres- 
tlework. Here again, familiar faces, with their hands full of 
flowers and their hearts with welcome, were there to meet 
us and escort us across the bay in loyal numbers. It is 
eight miles across the bay to San Francisco, and the 
ferry-boats are like floating palaces, with velvet lounges, 



140 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

gorgeous in carving and gilding, with a painted ceiling, 
giving views of the surrounding neighbourhood, and mir- 
rors on all sides, reflecting and multiplying you in such 
numbers that you cannot get away from yourself. You 
come face to face with your own ghost whichever way you 
turn. The sea-breeze coming to us, salt laden, through 
the Golden Gate, is delicious, and stirs our blood, and 
sends it leaping madly through our veins. Sister boats 
pass and repass us on the way, and more important ves- 
sels, with the Stars and Stripes or flags of many nations 
fluttering from their mastheads, are gathered in crowds in 
the beautiful bay, and, as they are riding at anchor, dip 
and courtesy as we pass. Thousands of shrieking sea- 
gulls swoop down, throw up their heads, and, dipping their 
white breasts in the water, float upon its surface as proud- 
ly and almost as gracefully as baby swans. We all crowd 
up to the bow of the vessel. In vain our friends point out 
the different rocks and islands which stud the bay, and 
the long, curving line of the distant shore. We have no 
eyes, no thought for anything but San Francisco. That 
is our Mecca — the shrine whereon we are prepared to lay 
our heart's devotion. 

The sun is setting, and the whole of the Western hemi- 
sphere is draped with crimson clouds slashed with flames 
of purple light, and, slowly looming from their midst, the 
Golden City breaks upon our sight. We cannot distinctly 
distinguish a single feature. The palace-houses which 
crown the hill-top, church steeples and spires, are all hid- 
den and shrouded in purple mist, which rolls down the 
steep streets, spreads everywhere, and covers everything 



ACROSS THE SIERRAS. 141 

with a soft, sweet mystery, and we only see, or seem to 
see, a wide, extensive range of buttressed, battlemented 
castles — a ruined castellated world. And so we catch our 
first view of San Francisco, like a phantom city lying in 
the arms of the sunset. 




CHAPTER XIIL 



THEGOLDENCITY. 

The Streets— Kaleidoscopic Scenes— The Stock Boards— Wild Cat 
—Bulls and Bears— The Markets— The "Dummy "—Lone Moun- 
tain. 




E pass through a deafening crowd of hackmen, 
who are ranged on either side of the landing- 
stage, and a posse of hotel porters, each in a 
monotonous sing-song calling the name of his hotel. To 
all insinuating invitations we sternly answer "Occiden- 
tal," and are allowed to pass without further let or hin- 
drance. We find our comfortable hotel coach waiting, 
and jolt and rumble through the stony Market Street. 
We see nothing but throngs of people, flaring gas-jets, and 
lighted shop-windows, and in a few minutes are deposited 
at the door of the Occidental, a strange sound to us then, 
but soon to become familiar as a household word. 

A cosy suite of rooms had been prepared for us, and 
here again friendly hands had filled our room with flow- 
ers, giving us a most sweet floral welcome to California. 

On this, our very first evening in San Francisco, friends 
we have not seen for years come rallying round us ; their 
bright, familiar faces and pleasant voices ringing out a 
kindly welcome, bring back a glimpse of the old land and 

142 



THE GOLDEN CITY. 143 

the old scenes wherein we had all played our part in the 
dear long ago. For a moment I only see their faces 
through a mist, but the mist is in my own eyes. Every- 
body is anxious to come to the fore and escort us on our 
first tour round their Golden City. 

The next morning early we sallied forth to get our first 
general view of San Francisco, as we like to familiarize 
ourselves with the face of a friend before we criticise his 
features or attempt to discuss his character. Our hotel 
is situated in — or, as v/e may say here, on — Montgomery 
Street, one of the busiest portions of the city. There are 
some notably handsome jeweller's and other shops ; but 
by far the greater number, both there and on the lower 
part of California Street, are public notaries, bill-brokers, 
stock-brokers, attorneys, and mining agents ; in fact, 
every facility for financial ruin yawns on all sides of you. 
There is a tempting restaurant sandwiched in here and 
there, or you may descend into a kind of cellar and take 
your refreshments comfortably underground. There are, 
besides, numerous barbers' shops, as no American, East 
or West, Avill shave an inch of his own chin ; and open 
spaces where gentlemen lounge on velvet chairs and read 
the news while their boots are having " a shine for five 
cents," for here, as in other parts of America, you must 
clean your own boots and shoes or go out and have a pub- 
lic " shine for five cents." The shoeblack's being a strictly 
outdoor industry forms no part of anybody's domestic duty. 

There is a general rush and flow of mankind through 
this busy street, the Exchange being situated hereon. The 
moment its doors are open everybody seems to be flock- 



144 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ing up or hurrying down the steps. There is an endless 
stir and passing to and fro. They gather in crowds upon 
the sidewalks, swarm at the street corners, and surge into 
the roadways. Curbstone brokers, the ragged fringe of 
the stockboards, lie in wait everywhere, like spiders, wait- 
ing to catch some silly, inexperienced fly in their financial 
web of fine promises. There are men of all kinds and all 
nations, a kaleidoscopic company of Jews and Christians, 
Orientals of divers degrees, even South Sea Islanders 
washed up from the shores of the Pacific, the grim-visaged 
Tartar chief, and foreigners from all parts of the civilized 
world make up the incongruous gathering, all babbling to- 
gether, creating a very Babel and confusion of tongues. 
You may hear men grumble in guttural German ; swear 
in high Dutch ; insinuate in soft, mellifluous Italian or 
musical Greek ; and, indeed, bargain, wrangle, and chat 
in every language under the sun. The spirit of specula- 
tion is in the air ; its subtle influence stirs the very centre 
of life ; everybody speculates ; everybody has '^ some- 
thing in stocks ; " the poorest servant girl, the hard-work- 
ing mechanic, with the rest of the labouring population, 
invest their little all in stocks. You may see their eager 
faces crowding round the windows where the rise and fall 
in stocks is exhibited every hour. Millions of dollars are 
floating about in investments in worthless mines, which 
Avill never yield an ounce of gold. Well, the stocks are 
up to-day, down to-morrow ; the fever is in the blood of 
the people ; they will drain their pockets, sell their clothes 
off their back, the home that shelters them, the very land 
they live by, all in the race for wealth. So long as they 



THE GOLDEN CITY. 145 

have a cent or " wild cat "is to be got in the market, 
they'll have it. Well, somebody grows rich. Somebody 
rides on the great third wave, though thousands sink be- 
neath it and are lost. 

I, like the rest of the v/orld, fell into the gilded snare, 
and with one of my too confiding friends, was induced to 
take a hand at this game of speculation. Silently and 
secretely we matrons laid our plans, letting not our right 
hand know what our left was doing. We had reason to 
believe that a certain mine would disgorge heaps of gold 
within the next two weeks ; shares were low at the present 
time, but as soon as gold came to the surface, they would 
double, treble, nay quadruple, in a single day — perhaps 
rise from five to a hundred dollars per share ! In a 
frenzy of gold 'fever we rushed off to a stockbroker's 
office, and invested all our ready cash, even to our 
last dollar, in that promising stock. We turned our 
faces homeward, beggars in the present, millionaires in 
the future. We seemed to tread on air, and sent our 
thoughts flying through the realms of imagination, build- 
ing castles in the air, and making glorious plans for the 
future ; we felt as though we already held that El Dorado 
in our pockets, and disposed of it, each in our own fash- 
ion. My friend chose a lovely spot, overlooking the bay 
and the green hills beyond, and announced her intention 
of building a house there, and presenting it to her liege 
lord on the next anniversary of their wedding day ; she 
decided on the kind of wall-paper, the particular dado, 
and even on the style of furniture, which was to be 
selected on purely Art principles. My ideas were equally 



146 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

magnificent, though my plans were more indefinite, and 
certainly did not run in the house-building line. For two 
weeks the one golden idea possessed our minds ; every 
morning we watched eagerly for news. At last it came. 
The miners had reached the expected spot, and struck — 
not gold, but water ! Our hopes were washed away, our 
expectations drowned in a sea of repentance. 

But this is a digression. To return to our first day's 
experience. While we were jostling our way through the 
bustling streets of San Francisco's business quarter, star- 
ing on all sides with all our eyes, and, like Choivder seem- 
ing " to want another pair," some one of our party proposed 
a visit to the Stock Boards, it being just about the time 
when the financial hounds would be in full cry, and the 
" bulls " and " bears " tossing and tumbling among the 
stocks, sending them up or puUing them down in the 
wildest fashion. To " bull " is to send up the stocks ; to 
" bear "is to pull them down. 

We were ushered into a gallery overlooking the scene 
of operations ; directly in front of us was a platform ; two 
or three men were writing at different tables, and, at one 
in the centre of the platform, stood a stout, stolid-looking 
individual with a small bell beside him ; below, seated in 
circular rows rising from the floor of the building, were 
the shareholders in the different mines, watching, with 
anxious faces, the financial fight. In the railed-in centre, 
which was something like the old gladiatorial arena, the 
stockbrokers themselves held the floor. There was a 
momentary lull as we entered ; it was the close of the first 
session. Every face was turned towards the platform, 



THE GOLDEN CITY. 147 

waiting till the sphinx should speak. A few hurriedly 
uttered words from the stolid individual above alluded to 
— and such a commotion ! A deafening roar of voices, 
pitched in a hundred different keys, clattering and clang- 
ing one against the other ! A sea of excited faces, eyes 
flashing, arms tossing wildly, fingers flung out and snap- 
ping in each other's faces, a struggle, a rush, a swaying to 
and fro of the crowd, which seemed wedged into a solid 
mass ! It seemed as though a sudden, go-as-you-please 
free fight was going on. We fancied they never could 
emerge whole from the conflict ; their clothes must be 
torn from their backs, their limbs from their sockets. 
One stroke on the bell, and, as though by a magic touch, 
all is still — all silent. In that few minutes' commotion 
fortunes have been lost and won. 

The clerk, in a monotonous, sing-song tone and rapid 
utterance, goes over the amount of business transacted. 
Strange it seemed to us, that out of that " confusion worse 
confounded," that tangled skein of words and babel of 
sounds, he extracted the clear argument, drew out each 
particular thread, and reiterated the quotations of stocks 
and by whom they had been bought or sold, never in a 
single instance making a mistake. Through all that din 
and confusion of tongues it had been plain sailing to him. 
The " bulls " had it to-day, the " bears " would have their 
turn to-morrow. So the world goes round. 

Next we strolled up Kearney, the Bond or Regent 
Street of San Francisco. It is a very handsome street in 
the most fashionable quarter of the town, with elegant, 
tastefully arranged shops on either side. It is quite the 



148 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

fashionable promenade on Saturday afternoons. All the 
elite of the city, elegantly dressed women (the San Fran- 
cisco ladies do dress elegantly, though sometimes with a 
daring combination of colours that are somewhat discon- 
certing to the aesthetic taste), and men in broadcloth and 
beaver, turn out like soldiers on parade, and lounge up 
and down. Friends and acquaintances congregate to- 
gether and hold their receptions on Kearney Street. It 
is quite a kaleidoscopic scene of bright dresses and pretty, 
smiling faces. The dusty business men, in their cutaway 
coats and slouch hats, keep to their own quarters in Mont- 
gomery Street, hard by, and seldom venture to intrude 
on dainty Kearney Street. But, alas ! there is a blot on 
this bright picture. There are sundry open alcoves, cigar 
and tobacco stores, pretty and pleasant enough to look at, 
for they are gay with gilding and mirrors and bright with 
flowers, but there is generally a crowd of the tobacco- 
chewing population congregated here, and the sidewalk is 
in such a disgusting condition from this chewing and 
smoking that it is impossible for a lady to pass without 
gathering up her skirts, and even then she runs the risk 
of having a quid squirted over her as she passes along. 
All over America, more or less, this evil habit obtains, 
and everywhere with the same revolting effect. It is, 
however, much worse in the Western cities than in the 
Eastern States. In New York, especially, they seem to 
be awakening to the error of their way, and expectorate 
less frequently in the presence of ladies. It is even pos- 
sible to ride for an hour in a car without being disgusted 
once. But here in the West the vice rides rampant. It 



THE GOLDEN CITY, 1 49 

is impossible to escape from it. In the streets, in the 
cars, on the railway trains — it follows you everywhere, 
wherever men (I was going to say gentlemen, and some 
are so far as the tailor can make them) are travelling to 
and fro. This state of things would not be allowed in 
any other city in the civilized world, and it might be 
easily remedied if the authorities would take the matter 
in hand as they do in the case of other nuisances, which 
may be more serious, but are far less disgusting. On all 
the ferryboats there is a placard : '^ Gentlemen are re- 
quested not to spit about the deck ; it is used by ladies." 
And they don't. The floor of the deck is as clean as a 
drawing-room. Why should not the same rule hold else- 
where ? 

We stroll through the markets, and wonder where the 
mountains of fruit and beautiful flowers have come from, 
and where they are going to. Such heaps of luscious 
peaches, plums, and nectarines, bushels of rich, ripe straw- 
berries, raspberries, blue and green grapes, melons and 
oranges, and red and gold bananas, and vegetables of 
every possible description in tons and scores of tons piled 
on all sides. Nothing wilted or stale ; all fresh, and crisp, 
and green. Everything is in such royal profusion it seems 
as though nature had opened her heart and showered her 
best and fairest flowers throughout this Golden State. 
Provisions of every kind are to be found in these markets, 
of which there are several, and all in populous places, easy 
of access. Dairy farmers send their golden butter, plump 
chickens, and boxes of white, fresh eggs ; and long-legged 
fowls, prairie hens, and a whole tribe of feathered favour- 



150 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ites hang like malefactors suspended overhead ; and dainty- 
white pigs, with lemons in their mouths, tails curled up and 
tied with pink ribbons, and pigs that had outgrown the 
lemon period, and were waiting to be turned to bacon, and 
silver trout and salmon, — such rich, luscious-looking sal- 
mon, — with their scaly armour glittering in the light, and 
big-whiskered lobsters, prawns, and crawling crabs, all 
opening their formidable mouths and stirring their hun- 
dred feelers in protest against their unnatural usage. 
Every crustaceous delicacy the sea affords is there, all 
ready to tempt the appetite of omnivorous man. Every- 
thing was refreshing and pleasant to the eye, and so artis- 
tically arranged that we looked round on a perfect mosaic 
of beauty, a kind of poem, not made up of similes, rhymes, 
and rhythms, but of fruits and flowers. 

The streets of San Francisco are a wonder and a marvel. 
On every side there is an ever-changing, animated scene, 
unenlivened by organ-grinders, dancing dogs, or Punch 
and Judys. The industrious fleas or the intelligent cana- 
ries are all equally unknown here. The attraction of the 
streets is entirely due to the polygot gatherings of people 
from all lands, and the variegated tide is eternally flowing 
to and fro. Strange vehicles of all indescribable descrip- 
tions are dashing about the up-and-down stony streets at 
a breakneck pace. Clattering milk carts, travelling soda 
fountains, brewers' drays, sociable rockaways, and solitary 
" sulkies," their owners perched up between the spidery 
wheels, seemingly seated on nothing, are all rushing along 
pell-mell, helter-skelter. The streets are a perfect net- 
work of rails, and huge red cars, blue cars, and yellow 



THE GOLDEN CITY. 151 

cars, with their jingling bells, cross and recross at every 
turn. We look out for a collision, but none comes, and 
we elbow our way on. We are jostled on one side by a 
Polish Israelite, in whom there "is no guile," with a long 
beard and high peaked hat. A moon-faced Mexican, with 
long hair, golden earrings, and red serape, walks in his 
shadow. A slipshod woman, in a grimy Oriental dress, 
flits past and disappears in a dark alley. A South Sea 
islander, a New Zealand chief, and a Mongolian merchant 
catch our eyes among the surging mass of European faces, 
and the blue-bloused, pig-tailed Chinaman, with his glid- 
ing, silent tread, swarms everywhere. He is always busy, 
always at work, carrying such weights as would set a 
donkey staggering. He has a long, hickory pole across 
one shoulder, and balancing at either end are huge round 
baskets filled with goods of all descriptions, enough to fill 
a waggon, but John earnest he weight easily enough. At 
the corner of California Street we come to a dead stop. 
There stands a kind of double vehicle, the foremost part 
being open, with a canopied top, seats running all round, 
and a man in the middle keeping solemn guard over a huge 
lever or crank. On the benches on either side were seated 
some half-dozen people, facing' outwards, their feet dan- 
gling or resting on a narrow plank at their pleasure. We 
took our places on the front seat, faces set forward ; a 
pretty balcony or wire lace-work ran in front of us breast 
high. The hind part was a common omnibus car, such 
as we are used to see all the world over. What magic 
would set the whole in motion ? Of course we were going 
somewhere. There were no horses, no engine, no visible 



152 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

means of propelling us forward. A newly arrived Mon- 
golian, seeing this strange vehicle for the first time, eyed 
it curiously, " No pushee, no pullee, no horsee, no steamee ; 
Melican man heap smart." At the sound of a bell the 
man turns the crank and off we go, flying in the face of 
the wind at the rate of ten miles an hour. We charge up 
one steep hill, then dash down, and up another, and so on 
for about four miles. Never was such a delicious breeze, 
such a flow of fresh, invigorating air. Long lines of elegant 
houses, some of distinguished architectural grandeur, with 
stately palms lifting their grand, green heads like sentinels 
on either side of the entrance doors, or rising from the 
smooth-shaven lawns embroidered with flowers of brilliant 
hues, fly past us on either side, their peaks and gables 
silhouetted against the bright blue skies. Streets and 
alleys, some wide, some narrow, diverge and radiate from 
either side of us. And through this vista of quaint habita- 
tions, of all sorts and sizes, we get such delicious bits of 
harbour and river scenery as would have delighted an 
artist's soul. On we go, till we lose sight of sea and river, 
and the whole city unrolls itself beneath our feet, sliding 
down from its hundred hills, spreading in picturesque and 
panoramic beauty on all sides of us, till it is lost in the 
amethyst haze beyond. Whirled through the air by our 
invisible steeds, we look down upon church spires and 
steeples, massive towers and palace houses, on miles of 
streets, green squares, and blooming gardens, which Eve 
herself might have revelled in and dreamed of her paradise 
regained. With cheeks aglow, and spirits buoyant v.^ith 
the dehght of our magic journey, we reached the foot of 



THE GOLDEN CITY. 153 

Lone Mountain. Before we left our strange vehicle, called 
by the natives "the dummy," we ascertained something of 
its mysterious engineering. It is of similar construction to 
that in use for a time on the old Blackwall railway at home, 
being propelled by an underground cable, which runs along 
the centre of the road between the regular track rails, and 
the hidden underground force is controlled by the crank, 
deftly handled by the official who stands in the middle of 
our "dummy." 

We are at the foot of Lone Mountain, towering high 
among the surrounding hills, with the holy cross planted 
on the top. It is the loveliest grave-garden in the world ; 
not an echo reaches it from the busy, bustling city below. 
Surrounded by wild, widespreading uplands and undulat- 
ing sandhills, barren, and soft, and gray, with the boom of 
the Pacific waves thundering among the low foothills, it 
stands in isolated solitude, this beautiful city of the dead. 
There are no grim head and footstones, no tons of mon- 
umental marble crushing down upon the helpless dead, 
enough to give a ghost the nightmare to think of its poor 
body being buried under it. Here the dead are really 
laid to rest in a veritable flower-garden. The ground is 
arranged in plots, varying from twelve to thirty feet 
square, and each plot is owned by one family, who deco- 
rate it according to their own fancy. Every family grave- 
garden is surrounded by a low, light fence, and is entered 
through a rustic gate, and is laid out with narrow, neatly 
gravelled paths, a foot wide, and borders and flower-beds, 
some filled with beautiful roses, some a mass of purple 
and white violets, others with different kinds of sweet- 



154 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

smelling flowers of bright and variegated hues. Every- 
thing is kept in perfect order ; not a weed is to be seen. 
Opposite the entrance-gate is a small slab chronicling the 
name of the dead below. It is sometimes so hidden by 
the luxuriant growth of evergreens and flowers that you 
have to search to find it. 

Here, in the fragrant and peaceful shade of this fair 
garden, the old pioneers, the heroes of the strange days of 
'49, the storm of their turbulent lives over, the battle 
fought, the victory won — or lost ! lie at rest. 




CHAPTER XIV. 



THE OLD INIISSION. 




The Windmills— The Golden Gate Park— The Seal Rock— The 
Cliff House — The Mission Dolores. 

|LEXANDER wanted more worlds to conquer. 
If Don Quixote had sought for more windmills 
on a general tilting-ground, he would have 
found them here. They are everywhere. We wonder what 
they are all doing. It is so unusual to see such a world 
of windmills in a large city. Looking round from Cali- 
fornia Street hills we see scores of them ; they come upon 
us, one after the other, till we forget to count them. They 
are of all sorts and all sizes ; some short and stumpy, with 
fat arms, wheezing laboriously as the wind sends them 
around, as though they were working against their will ; 
others are tall and lanky, their long, gaunt arms whizzing 
and whirring through the air, always hard at work except 
when the wind is still, and that is not often ; they are 
painted all the colours of the rainbow, and look quite 
gay flashing round in the sunshine. Every house of the 
sHghtest pretensions has a well and waterworks on its own 
premises ; the windmill stands sentinel above them, and 
sends the fresh cool stream through the leaden arteries of 

155 



156 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

the household, and irrigates and refreshes the land when 
no rain is falling and the summer sun tries to burn the 
green verdure to tinder, for this is a rainless land for six 
months of the year. During summer not a drop falls to 
moisten the parched face of the earth. Everything is 
done by artificial irrigation. 

We soon leave the city and its windmills behind us, and 
enter the Golden Gate Park, where, a few years ago, the 
Pacific waves were rolling ; but these hundreds of acres 
have been reclaimed from the sea, and are planted with 
rare shrubs, young trees, evergreens, and blooming flowers. 
It is tastefully laid out, a landscape garden and park in 
one ; there are picturesque winding paths and shady nooks 
and corners where you can hide from the sun's searching 
rays, and, while you listen to the singing birds overhead, 
hear the boom of the breakers on the shore below. We 
pass through this paradise of green and reach a silent sea 
of yellow sandhills, smooth and soft as velvet, billowing 
round in graceful, undulating waves as far as the eye can 
reach ; there is a sudden curve, and the wide Pacific 
Sea, in all its glory, lies before us clothed in the sunshine, 
its white foam lips kissing the golden shore ; its long, 
level line stretched against the distant skies. We drove 
down to it ; nay, drove into it, and watched its tiny 
waves dimpling into a thousand welcomes beneath our 
wheels. The sun and the sea conspired together to 
fill the air with bright beams and balmy breezes. We felt 
the soft spray blowing in our faces, stirring our blood, and 
setting our cheeks aglow, and, as we breathed the crisp, 
soft air, laden with three thousand miles of iodine, we 



THE OLD MISSION. 1 57 

seemed to be taking a draught of the elixir of life. The 
full fascination of the sea seized our senses ; we could not 
tear ourselves away. Presently, mingling with the monot- 
onous moaning of the waves, we heard a sound like the 
barking of a kennel of dogs. Before us, rising out of the 
sea about a hundred yards from the shore, was a pictur- 
esque mass of broken crags known as the famous Seal 
Rocks, whereon thousands of those sensible creatures, 
from the soft seal baby to the barnacled old patriarch, lay 
basking in the sunshine, barking their satisfaction aloud, 
floundering about, rollicking and rolling one over the 
other, and splashing into the sea, while some stood 
solemnly on end watching the fun. Standing just above, 
on a steep, rocky eminence which rises abruptly from the 
shore, stands the Cliff House, where an excellent table is 
always spread for those who choose to partake of the good 
things thereon. It is a favourite resort of the good folk 
of San Francisco ; they turn their backs upon the noise 
and bustle of the city and enjoy here perfect solitude ; 
they can descend from the piazza some fifty rugged steps, 
and stroll along the wild seashore, undisturbed except by 
the shriek of the sea-gull and the barking of the seal 
colony mingling with the soughing of the wind, and the 
low, sullen roar of the waves ; or saunter up and down the 
piazza, sipping their coffee or smoking the beloved weed, 
and watch the great, red sun sink like a ball of fire, and 
drown itself in the Pacific Sea. 

On our way home we passed the old Mission ; at least, 
all that is left of it, which is not much — the mere rem- 
nants of some redwood houses and the ancient church, a 



158 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

quaint-looking, low-roofed liome of desolation, with its 
adobe walls of sunbaked clay about four feet thick, which 
promise to withstand the encroaches of time a century 
longer. A chime of three bells still hangs in three square 
portholes ; their long tongues, red with rust, droop dumb 
and motionless from their silent mouths. Only a hundred 
years ago they were brought from Castile, blessed by the 
holy fathers, and brought here to the edge of the wild 
Western world to ring out and summon the heathen and 
the wanderer to worship the one true God. You enter the 
ruined church through a low, arched doorway. The 
broken font is still there, but the last drop of holy water 
was spilled from it long ago. The mullioned windows are 
of a quaint, fanlike shape, and the genial sun tries to 
pierce through the grime and dust and send its beams 
dancing over the crumbled ruin w^ithin. The painted 
wooden shrines of St. Joseph and St. Francis (who gave 
the settlement of Yerba Buena the name of San Francis- 
co) are still there. Near by are the Madonna and Child, 
but the paint has worn off, and they are all discoloured 
and stained with the damp wind and the rain which drips, 
in the rainy season, from the dilapidated roof. The 
crumbling decorations, though they are of a rough, rude 
workmanship, still bear the stamp of artistic design, though 
crudely executed by unaccustomed hands, who laboured 
for the love of God. It is about a hundred feet from the 
threshold to the altar. Give reins to your imagination, set 
it galloping back a hundred years, and see the priests, the 
white nuns, and hooded friars clustered round the empty 
altar busy in the service of the Lord ; the aisles filled 






THE OLD MISSION. i^g 

with kneeling Indians, who know little of the faith they 
have adopted except that there is an unknown God some- 
where who makes their corn grow, watches over their lives 
here, with a promise of a life hereafter ; men from Mexico, 
Peru, and Spain, and wanderers from all along the wild 
Pacific coast are standing reverently round ; censers are 
swinging, lights are burning, and a choir of voices chant 
the Ave Marias. A Christian host gathered in that wild- 
erness by the sea. Where are they all now ? Vanished 
like the children of a dream. 

A mouldy, funereal odour clings about the ruined walls, 
and we are glad to step out into the little graveyard out- 
side, where the English hawthorn and white winter roses 
are blooming and the grass growing rich and luxuriant 
above the moss-grown graves. Whole tribes of Indians 
lie buried in the dust beneath our feet. There is no more 
desolate spot in the world than a disused graveyard. We 
read strange unfamiliar names upon the broken, half- 
buried stones, and crumbling urns, dilapidated angels, and 
crippled cherubs are tottering round us. Here and there 
we decipher an English name, and, beneath, the informa- 
tion : " Died by the hands of the V. C. ; " " In mercy we 
slay the enemies of the Lord." The V. C. means the Vig- 
ilance Committee, who, in the early, lawless days, executed 
justice swift and sure upon proven criminals. The strict 
justice of their decisions was never called in question. A 
certain number of men of known integrity were invested 
with supreme power of life or death, and the guilt of a 
man being once fully assured he had a brief trial and 
swift execution. There was no legal quibbling, which 



l6o THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

often lets loose some atrocious criminal to prey upon the 
world again until, at the end, he is launched out of it. 
Near the low, arched gateway stands the dilapidated figure 
of a woman, her sightless eyes and lifted hands pointing 
upwards — mute significance of one hope for all the miscel- 
laneous dead. 

A fresh breeze was blowing outside, but here it seemed 
to hang heavy and' still, laden with the damp odour of 
mouldering graves, which mingled with and destroyed the 
sweet scent of the flowers that are flourishing so luxuri- 
antly above the dead. This was the first we had seen of 
the many remnants of the old mission days, when the 
Spanish fathers first came to the wilderness to sow the 
good seed and reap the harvest in their Lord's name. 
About the year 1820 the missions began to decay, the 
soldiers were recalled from the Presidio, where they had 
been stationed for the protection of the friars and their 
property, and from that time the missions dwindled, till 
the fathers were recalled to Spain. They carried with 
them all their cattle and movable goods, and left their 
buildings to decay. These are scattered throughout the 
State of California, wherever the fathers held temporary 
sway. Still, though they and their labours have passed 
away, and are well-nigh forgotten, they have left their 
traces behind them : throughout the country we find the 
old Spanish names still clinging to the soil, such as Santa 
Clara, Santa Rosa, Santa Barbara, San Rafael, San Jose, 
Los Angeles, Monterey, Carmelo, etc. Mr. John S. 
Hittell, in his " History of California," has given a most 
interesting and graphic account of these missions, their 



THE OLD MISSION. i6i 

people, their work, and their effect upon the country from 
their first estabhshment to their decHne. 

The cit3^ has grown out of the wilderness, and crowded 
so close to the crumbling walls of the ruined mission that 
as we leave the gloomy precincts we step out into the 
populous streets, which are full of hurry, bustle, and vig- 
orous young life. It is like stepping from the old century 
into the new. Gaily painted cars and omnibuses are 
dashing up and down the wide Mission Street, each fol- 
lowing the other so quickly that before you can step into 
one another is on its heels. 

As we rattle up one street and down another we cannot 
help noticing the scarcity of shady trees in all parts of 
San Francisco. People take great pride in their beautiful 
flowers, their smooth velvet lawns, and stately palms, 
which lift their crowned heads on high, their broad leaves 
drooping like blessing hands over the household ; but 
never a shady tree is planted anywhere. 

Although the blissful shade, so highly prized and so 
eagerly sought for in other lands, may not be desirable 
here, where people literally hve in the sunshine, yet we 
feel that the planting of rows of leafy, green trees on 
either side of the streets would turn them at once into 
magnificent boulevards. They could still walk in the 
sunshine, but the luxuriant green would be refreshing to 
the eye. The long range of California street hills so 
planted would be a paradise for the gods to stroll in. 



CHAPTER XV. 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 




Street Architecture— Curiosities of Climate — Brummagem Baronets 
— The Sand Lot — The Forty-niners — " Society Ladies." 

OME Stands on her seven hills ; San Francisco 
sits enthroned upon a hundred. The one is 
enjoying her centuries of rest after her trium- 
phant onward march of a thousand years ; the other is 
just awakening, like a royal babe in swaddling-clothes, 
her infant hands outstretched to seize the sceptre she will 
one day wield as Empress of the West. She looks down 
upon scenes of surpassing beauty — wide-spreading hills 
and valleys, wooded dells, and dark pine forests reaching 
away till they are lost in the purple hills beyond. She is 
more than half surrounded by water. Along the east runs 
the beautiful blue bay, sixty miles long, studded by green 
or rocky islets, and honeycombed by smaller bays, where- 
in lay shady villages and thriving towns. To the north 
lies the Golden Gate, opening out to the glorious Pacific 
Sea, whose white-crested waves break and boom like 
muffled thunder along the sandy shore, rushing onward 
and bounding with its bright waters the western part 

of the city, which has scarcely a level square in the whole 

162 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 163 

of it. It is built in an up-and-down, zigzag fashion, some 
of the streets creeping up the hill sideways like a crab ; 
some, such as California, Clay, and Sutter, dashing 
straight up, as though they were in a hurry to get out of 
the city and be lost in the great beyond ; while one end 
of Montgomery Street rushes up the steep slope of Tele- 
graph Hill so precipitately and abruptly that the basement 
windows of one house have an excellent view of the 
chimney-pots of the next. 

The houses are all built of wood, to which the cunning 
builder gives all the massive appearance of substantial 
stone buildings. They are generally painted white, 
sometimes picked out with drab or gray. The fronts 
are always elaborately carved, and sometimes bordered 
round the windows with the natural red wood left un- 
painted. This mass of dazzling white houses gives the 
city a wonderfully brilliant appearance, especially when 
seen from the street hills. On California Street hill are 
some really palatial residences, the homes of the railway 
and bonanza kings. Some are built in the most orna- 
mental style of a kind of mongrel Gothic, with as many 
peaks, spires, and gables as could be crowded into one 
spot, oddly shaped windows— oval, oblong, diamond- 
shaped, or square — breaking out in unexpected places, 
variety of form being in every way more considered than 
the strict adherence to any special form of architecture. 
If we could make a twelfth cake as large as an island, 
and stick one of these special mansions on the top, its 
airy elegance would be the admiration of the world. 
General Colton has here a really splendid residence. A 



164 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

^' villa " he modestly calls it ; we style it a mansion. It is 
built in the pure Italian style of architecture, elegant and 
graceful, yet stately and imposing in its grand simplicity. 
It stands out in striking contrast to the decorated dwell- 
ings on the other side. Every man who builds a house 
lays '' a trap to catch a sunbeam " in the form of a bay 
window. They are everywhere, in every street, and on 
both sides of it. The Palace Hotel seems built entirely 
of bay windows from its base to the height of its seven 
floors. This immense caravansera is honeycombed with 
them, and it has the appearance of a straight square 
mountain covered with bird-cages. The sun in other 
cities is a luxury of life, here it is a necessity. " Sunny 
suites " are advertised and sought for everywhere. In 
other places people usually avoid the sun, and seek the 
shady side of the road. Here they bask like Hzards in 
the sunshine ; it is only dire necessity that drives them 
into the shade. There is no scarcity of sunshine either ; 
the land is flooded with it. Nowhere is the sun so bright, 
so genial, and strong, always looking down with warm 
friendly eyes, never sending it^ fierce, fiery lances down 
to smite and slay with their cruel stroke. The heat is 
tempered by a cool, invigorating breeze, and while the 
sun inclines you to throw off your sealskin, the wind 
warns you to cling to it. Some never leave off their furs, 
others never put them on. The variations of temperature 
during summer and winter are so slight that one style of 
clothing serves for the whole year. Your wardrobe never 
suffers from an irruption. You may meet a lady prome- 
nading in lace and muslin in December, and in velvet 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 165 

and furs in June ; or in a single walk through the city 
you may meet one lady in the airiest of costumes, another 
cloaked and muffled up to the chin ; one gentleman in 
a linen duster, another in a top-coat. Nobody is ever 
too warm, nobody is ever too cold. It seems like a 
riddle, but you must come here to read it. Everything 
seems bouleverse\ even to the climate. There is no settled 
rule anywhere or in anything ; it is a sort of " go-as-you- 
please " city. There is a general rush and hurry every- 
where, a kind of picturesque lawlessness, which is most 
refreshing to those who come from the other side of the 
world, where propriety always wears her best bib and 
tucker, and etiquette in her regulation dress, tied with the 
reddest of red tape, reigns supreme, and natural impulse 
is bound down in the straitest of strait- waist coats. Fash- 
ion is the only tyrant, the spoilt pet and ruler among the 
ladies, for if a San Francisco lady is not in the fashion 
she is nowhere. In their desire to attain to the utmost 
height of that fickle goddess they sometimes " o'erleap 
the selle, and fall on the other side ; " but as a rule they 
are well and tastefully dressed. The gentlemen are 
supremely indifferent on the subject ; each dresses to 
please himself, and consults only his own individual com- 
fort and convenience, whereas in most large cities, where 
the sacred " chimney-pot " prevails, one man is as like 
another as two peas, faultlessly attired in the same fash- 
ion, from the crown of his head to the sole of his feet. 
Here it is altogether different ; here are hats with high 
crowns, low crowns, or no crowns, straw, felt, willow, or 
wide Panama ; gray suits, white suits, and blue suits. 



1 66 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

But the Californian proper is very particular in his choice 
of a necktie, which is always of the most brilliant hue. 
Even in Eastern or Continental cities, where black ties 
are the rule, he will burst out in gorgeous colours. In the 
evening, however, when he presents himself before the 
ladies, the swallow-tail coat is strictly de iHgueur. 

Social life flows on in an easy, pleasant, sans soiici 
fashion, for the San Franciscans are a most hospitable 
people, and are disposed to open their hearts as well as 
their doors to their visitors from the outside world, and 
do all in their power to make their beautiful city a home 
to the passing stranger. This open-hearted hospitality is 
sometimes imposed upon by an influx of British baronets, 
whose names are unknown in their native land, and 
pseudo lords, made up by their tailors, whose names have 
never figured in the peerage. Occasionally these Brum- 
magem gentry dip their fingers into the purse of the open- 
handed Californian, and sometimes make themselves too 
fatally agreeable to the ladies ; but as a rule their false 
pretensions are discovered, and they are quietly driven 
from the city, before the damage done is irreparable. The 
inhabitants are apt to give too easy credence to a self- 
asserting class, who swagger about the hotels as true 
gentlefolk never do, and whose brassy impudence for a 
time passes as pure gold. But perhaps it is better to be 
sometimes deceived than always distrustful. 

There is no settled " society " here, regarding the sub- 
ject from our point of view. It is impossible there should 
be in a country which is in a constant state of fermenta- 
tion, fluctuating from one extreme to the other, where 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 167 

the game of speculation is being played on all sides, and 
everybody takes a hand. The cauldron is for ever bub- 
bling and boiling over, and somebody goes to the bad. 
Men and women who have held their place in brilliant 
circles one year drop out of it the next, and sink down 
and are lost, no one knows how or where. The circle 
closes, and the dance of life goes on. 

Of course there are many people of wealth and posi- 
tion who have played a winning game, and are satisfied 
now to settle down and watch the growth of the beloved 
city they have helped to make. Most of the families 
of culture, intellect, and refinement are those who 
came there thirty years ago, when the gold fever first 
broke out and drew some of the best blood from every 
land towards itself. And those men and women, too, 
who came out in the old, rough days, have grown purer, 
stronger, and better from mingling with the new life in a 
new land. There has been no effete civifization here. 
Every man has depended on his own brains, his own hand 
for his well-doing. It may truly be said, in this land 
above all others, that every man is the architect of his 
own fortunes. Of course much of the coarse, vulgar ele- 
ment of mankind has swarmed and is still swarming into 
this Golden State. Some regard it as a sort of Tom Tid- 
dler's ground, where they can run about picking up gold 
and silver. When they find their mistake, and learn that 
here, as elsewhere, men must bring labour of hand or 
brain to the market and pay in full for every crust they 
eat, they enrol themselves in the noble army of the unem- 
ployed, parade the streets in lazy battalions, hold mass 



l68 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

meetings, and howl over their misfortunes, shake their 
fists in the face of calamity : " Why can't they drink the 
wine of life and revel in champagne and roses ? " They 
will do anything, everything, but work for it. These 
people, who are not native born, but are the mere refuse 
of other nations, which has rolled across the sea and been 
flung upon the shores of the Western World, have won for 
themselves the title of Sand-lotters. They have their 
meetings on a vacant sand-heap on the edge of the town, 
which is held entirely sacred to them, and here they blus- 
ter, and storm, and loudly assert their "rights." They 
decide who is fit to live and who is fit to die. Figur- 
atively, they hang the capitalist on his own threshold and 
divide his wealth among their worthier selves. If the 
general atmosphere were more combustible their incen- 
diary speeches would set the land in flames. These peo- 
ple, though contemptible in themselves, create a general 
agitation and confusion, drive capital away from the city, 
and have given rise to a general sense of insecurity. As 
a grain of sand will set all the deUcate working of a v/atch 
awry, so they have disturbed the peace for a while ; but it 
is a storm in a tea-cup, that will soon be over. The 
party of law and order is firmly knit together, and digni- 
fied in its silent strength. So long as the dronish popu- 
lation confines itself to buzzing and burring around, 
carrying on a boisterous war of words only, they keep a 
dignified silence ; but at the first attempt to sting, it will 
be crushed like a wasp. In no other country would a 
foreign element be allowed to create so much disorder. 
The native population are a peaceful, law-abiding race. 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 1 69 

" This is a land of liberty," they say ; but when liberty 
becomes license to the vicious, alas for poor liberty ! 

America is willing to stretch a welcoming* hand to all 
comers without regard to creed or nationality, to give 
land to such as desire to make a home among them, and 
a free liberal education to their children, to throw open 
its offices of State and General Government to all candi- 
dates who are fit to fill them. It is large in generosity as 
mighty in strength, and it is a small thing to ask that its 
laws be kept and its institutions respected by the stranger 
who benefits by the national hospitality. 

Young children must go through certain physical dis- 
turbances before they arrive at a state of healthy matu- 
rity, and I suppose young States must go through similar 
mental distractions before they settle down into a digni- 
fied calm. The adolescent State of California is no excep- 
tion to the rule, but it is cutting its wisdom teeth and 
learning to comport itself with a dignity befitting the great 
Union of which it is a part. 

Men no longer carry their lives in their hands, as in the 
old days of lawless, romantic adventure, but I am afraid 
a few still secretly carry arms in their pockets, and use 
them, perhaps, upon small provocation. But things are 
improving and changing rapidly ; the people are prosper- 
ing, and, the essentials of life being secured, their thoughts 
and ambitions are soaring into higher regions. Civiliza- 
tion, which for years past, has been marching westward, 
subduing prairies, cutting down forests, piercing moun- 
tains, and spanning rivers, seems to have ended her grand 
progress and, for a time, sat down to rest here ; resting, 
8 



I/O THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

though working still, establishing rule and order. There 
are no stagnant ideas, no stereotyped monotony here ; 
everything is full of electrical life ; people think, move, 
and act quickly ; they are not content with what is, but 
look forward to what shall be. This beautiful California — 
land of the sun, of the palm and pine — has only one chapter 
in its past, but it is creating for itself a glorious future. 

Things happen here that we cannot conceive happen- 
ing in any other city in the world. Walking through the 
streets one day, we met a strange figure carrying a parti- 
coloured umbrella — red, white, and blue. He was a 
gray-haired, elderly man, dressed in a faded military uni- 
form, with tarnished epaulets, and a scarlet feather in his 
cap. He may be seen wandering through the streets of 
the city in all weathers. He has been so wandering for 
the last twenty years or more. He labours under the de- 
lusion that he is " Emperor of all the Americas." The 
people humour him, and allow him to indulge in that 
delusion. He issues proclamations, w^hich are printed in 
the newspapers, and posted at street corners. Sometimes, 
being in want of twenty dollars, he levies a tax upon his 
" loyal subjects." Some wealthy citizen answers the de- 
m.and at once ; he is never denied. He dines where he 
pleases, free ; patronizes such places of entertainment as 
he chooses, free ; rides on the cars or on the trams, free ; 
indeed, he has the freedom of the city in the truest sense 
of the word. On inquiry we learn the reason of this gen- 
eral indulgence. He was a mason and a forty-niner, they 
say, and was ruined by the great fire, when his wits were 
shaken, and this royal delusion rose on the wreck of his 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. I71 

reason, and the kindly people, in the spirit of true cama- 
raderie^ will never let the old man want. 

Here is another anecdote characteristic of San Fran- 
cisco kindliness, being the history in brief of Bummer and 
Lazarus (the names being descriptive of the habits of one 
dog, and the appearance of the other, on his first entrance 
into public life). '^ Bummer " was a big dog, a vagabond 
much beloved of the town, who could not be coaxed into 
civilized ways. He disdained to live in a house, or to 
serve one master. He was a kind of canine tramp, who 
lived by his wits. Like the Emperor, he too enjoyed the 
hospitality of the city. Lazarus was a little mangy cur, 
thin, sickly, and half-starved. One day some other dogs 
attacked poor, miserable little Lazarus. Bummer, per- 
haps moved by kindred feelings — the assailants being 
household property, and Lazarus a tram^p like himself — 
plunged into the fray to the rescue of Lazarus. 

From that day the two wanderers Avere a canine Damon 
and Pythias. They became well known in the city. Laz- 
arus looked starved and sickly no longer. Bummer in- 
troduced him to his own chosen haunts. They went to- 
gether to such restaurants as they chose to honour, and 
dined gratis. Messrs. Bummer and Lazarus were always 
welcome, and never sent hungry away. It was observed 
that the big dog always gave his small companion a full 
share of the delicacies of the season. When an Act was 
passed commanding all dogs in the city of San Francisco 
to be muzzled, a clause was made exempting " Bummer 
and Lazarus." However, their time came. Bummer died 
one day ; Lazarus was found dead by his side on the 



1/2 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

next. An old resident of the city who knew the dogs well, 
and had fed them many a time, told me this story. They 
are stuffed now, and have their place among the many me- 
mentoes of " old days " — old in the space of thirty years. 

Only the healthy and the strong keep their grip on the 
land, and these, the early pioneers of the State, form the 
most deUghtful society in San Francisco. Their homes 
are the abode of elegance and refinement. We are some- 
times disposed to wonder how all this culture has reached 
this far-away land, — the " Wild West " we call it, — wild 
now in nothing but its natural attractions ; in no country 
in the world are there more luxurious, happy homes than 
here in San Francisco. Those who are in a position and 
have the power to entertain their friends, do so with 
genial cordiaUty. Some have one evening in the week, 
some another ; there is no set formality ; but we meet 
with the gracious courtesy of the Old World warmed by 
the hearty whole-souled welcome of the New. Those who 
have the power to indulge their aesthetic fancies gather 
about them all that is beautiful in the way of art that can 
attract and satisfy the most artistic taste. 

The home of one lady is at this moment present to 
my mind's eye. She has travelled over the world, and 
brought back with her some perfect gems in the way cf 
bric-a-brac, paintings, and sculpture. There are among 
them two exquisite marble statues, both unique in concep- 
tion and excellent in execution. The one is ^' Delilah," a 
grand, grim piece of workmanship ; the other, the more 
poetical and sympathetic " Lost Pleiad ; " the yearning, 
searching look upon her face reaches the heart, and we 



SOME SAN FRANCISCO WAYS AND CUSTOMS. 1 73 

wish we could help her find her way home. Here it has 
been our good fortune to fall in with some of the " Forty- 
niners," as all who came over in that year are called. 
Many may have come over adventuring earlier or later ; 
no matter, they have no distinguishing title to chronicle 
their advent. Only the " Forty-niners " are regarded as 
the original pioneers. Their numbers are lessening day 
by day ; but a few are now remaining, and they are all a 
fine, stalwart race of men, with no signs of age or decay, 
some with delicate poetical faces, which it is difficult to 
associate with the rude times we know they have passed 
through ; they have grown gray with the passing years, 
but not old ; they look as though they could brace them- 
selves together and do their work over again. In this 
electric air age seems chary of advancing ; youth blooms 
long after it would have perished elsewhere. The peren- 
nial springtime in earth and air seems to have communi- 
cated itself to the lives of men. They are full of anec- 
dote, and brimming over with the romance and stirring 
adventure of bygone days, and proud of their beautiful 
city, too ; as well they may be. They have watched it 
grow stone by stone, street by street, and have helped to 
make it. what it is. They found it a heap of hovels and 
sandhills, and when they are carried to their graves in 
Lone Mountain, they will leave it the fairest and loveliest 
city in the world. 

In addition to these pleasant gatherings, San Francisco 
frequently breaks out into grander gaieties, and entertains 
her hundreds in the most magnificent fashion. Society 
sounds her trumpet, and her armies gather round her in 



174 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

gorgeous array, when frivolity and fashion hold high 
revels for a season. There is no genial sociability then ; 
it is all gaslight, music, roses, and champagne. Gentle- 
folk are divided into two classes, " society ladies," and 
ladies pure and simple. The " society lady " has her 
dresses chronicled in all the public papers ; whole col- 
umns are devoted to the description of dresses. To all 
the Pacific coast is made known the important fact that 
the young and beautiful Miss So-and-so wore pink silk 
trimmed with point-lace, while the lovely Miss Such-a-one 
wore pea-green and apple blossoms, her stately 'mamma, 
appearing in imperial velvet and rubies. And so on. 
Woe be to the audacious damsel who dares to appear in 
the same dress twice running ! Everybody knows all 
about it, and the cost of every yard of satin or inch of 
lace is catalogued in the feminine mind. And woe be to 
the simple toilet which will not do credit to the reporter's 
pen ! The girls all wonder how their dresses will look in 
print, and to that end select them. Here a noble course 
of ruin begins — so far, at least, as an extravagant woman 
can ruin a man, and we all know how much she can do 
towards it. There are sometimes more dollars on a wo- 
man's back than remain in her husband's pocket. 

It is a pernicious habit, this advertising business, and 
brings to the surface the smaller, meaner passions of the 
female nature. There are numbers who would gladly 
break from this iron rule of custom, but they either have 
not the courage to strike the first blow or are borne down 
by the great majority on the other side. But things here, 
as elsewhere, will right themselves in time. 



CHAPTER XVI. 




THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. 

A Visit to Chinatown — Its General Aspect — A Tempting Display — 
Barbers' Shops — A Chinese Restaurant— Their Joss House — Their 
Gods. 

T is nine o'clock in the evening when we start 
for an investigating ramble through China- 
town. Time was when men went over "the 
sea in ships " when they desired to visit the celestial 
land ; now they can go there and back in an hour, and 
not travel on telegraph wires either. The mountain has 
come to Mahomet, and deposited its load in the very- 
heart of the " Golden City." 

Kearney Street is brilliantly lighted, the shops are 
temptingly arrayed in their best wares, and a well-dressed 
world of men and women are strolling up and down, 
chatting, laughing, bargaining, and buying. We watch 
the California Street dummy charge up the hill with its 
last load of passengers, its red fiery eye blazing boldly on 
us as it drops down the other side of the hill, and is lost 
to sight. We feel quite at home here, though we are eight 
thousand miles away from our native shores. A sudden 
turn out of the bustling thoroughfare, a few steps forward, 

175 



176 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

and we know we are in a foreign land. We are escorted 
by a private friend and a police detective, without whose 
protective presence it would not be safe to venture into 
these dingy courts and alleys which lie festering in the 
very heart of the ^' Flowery Kingdom." We keep close 
to our escorts ; we feel that we have stepped beyond the 
bounds of civilization, and are surrounded by a subtle 
element utterly foreign and inimical to our own. We are 
in the city of the idolatrous heathen, in whose sight our 
Christian civilization is an abomination and a snare. Pig- 
tailed, blue-bloused Celestials swarm in the roadway and 
on the sidewalks. They surge round us with their silent, 
stealthy tread. At the sight of our escort's face, or the 
sound of his voice, they slink away and are gone like 
shadows. The streets are dimly lighted ; the gas does 
not blaze, it blinks behind its glasses, but the big white 
moon gives light enough for us to see the cheap gaudy 
magnificence around us. We are passing the Joss house. 
It flaunts its scarlet streamers overhead, and flanks its 
doors with legends in saffron and gold. Within is a glit- 
ter of tinsel, a subdued light, and the flicker of a tiny 
lamp before some figure of barbaric ugliness. The air 
floats out loaded with the fumes of smoking sandal-wood 
and strange odours from the East. The doors are open, 
but we do not enter yet. We stroll up the street, taking 
an exterior view before we penetrate to the interior. 
Coloured lanterns are strung along some of the balconies, 
or hang from the windows. Red and black signs in 
crooked characters are everywhere, and from all sides 
resounds the echo, it seems, of a hundred unknown 



THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. 1 77 

tongues. The slant-eyed pagans leer at us curiously as 
they pass to and fro. They bear us " white devils " no 
good will, if we read their looks aright. Lights stream 
from cellar flaps, creep through open doors and window 
chinks, but the shops are only lighted by a succession of 
dingy oil lamps. Discordant noises of rasping fiddles, gongs 
and sundry unknown tuneless instruments mingle with the 
clatter of strange tongues. The very laughter comes to 
us jangled and out of tune, and the air is filled with odours 
the reverse of sweet. Mouldy fruits, wilted vegetables, 
stale fish, too long divorced from its native element, 
all mingle in one common and most unsavoury scent. 

The Chinese shops make no endeavour to attract the 
eye or tempt the appetite of the Celestial horde. But, 
perhaps, what seems to us a disgusting display may seem 
to them a tempting sight. The butcher, who is a general 
merchant as well, sells Joss sticks, teapots, tobacco, and 
scores of other things. He flanks his door on either side 
with the carcass of huge slaughtered hogs. They are not 
quartered and jointed in Christian fashion, but are hacked, 
and hewn, and torn assunder just as the meat is wanted, 
and present a mangled, shapeless mass, sickening to look 
at. SpHt chickens and fowls are flattened out like sheets 
of paper and nailed against the wall. Delicate titbits, 
steeped in oil and dried, are strung up and hung like 
cherry bob across the -windows, and scores of oily 
cakes, like lumps of yellow soap, are laid on benches. 
Lumps of delight they are in Celestial eyes, judging by 
the lingering glances they cast thereon. The shops 

are very dingy and dark inside, and those which are not 

8* 



178 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

devoted to the sale of eatables have a spicy, pungent 
odour everywhere, no matter what articles of merchandise 
they sell. We went into two or three shops in search of 
some special article which we might carry away as a sou- 
venir of our visit, but could find nothing but cheap, tawdry 
trash, beryl bracelets, bead necklaces, tiny cups and sau- 
cers, etc. There was no brilliant display of gold embroid- 
eries, vases, and Oriental magnificence, which characterizes 
our Chinese shops at home. The Chinese merchant sits 
in silent state behind his counter, watching our every 
movement with his stealthy almond eyes. He makes no 
attempt to force his wares upon us ; indeed, he seems 
sublimely indifferent whether we buy or not. His long, 
shapely hands are folded before him as he sits on his high 
stool serene and dignified, while we peer curiously about, 
examining anything that catches our eye. We see noth- 
ing we care to purchase, so we make a smiling apology 
for our intrusion, and he bows us out with courteous but 
most majestic silence. 

We pass on our way, look down the cellar flaps, and 
see the barbers at work in their underground shops. 
Within a radius of half a mile there are no less than fifty 
of these places, devoted to the cleansing and decoration 
of the Mongolian head. You may glance down these 
steps at any hour of the day or night and you will see the 
operators busy at their tonsorial labour. Never was such 
clean shaving, such delicate cleansing of eyes, ears, and 
nostrils, such trimming and pencilling of brows and lashes, 
such a scraping and polishing of oily faces, such a plaiting 
of the beloved and sacred pigtail, and the Celestial pagan 



THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. 1 79 

issues from the hands of the barber a proud and happy- 
man, the perfect ideal of a Chinese beau ; every inch 
above his shoulders is scraped and polished to perfection. 
This luxurious treatment which he receives at the hands 
of his barber is a law among the followers of Confucius. 
The Chinaman feels the necessity of frequent rejuvenation 
under the razors, probes, and pencils of the barber, who 
is one of the best employed and most irnportant persons 
in the community. The almond-eyed pagan is never 
seen without his pigtail ; the loss of it is considered the 
greatest calamity that can befall him. When he is 
engaged in his household work he winds his pigtail round 
his head in the fashion of a Grecian knot. 

Our next visit was to a Chinese restaurant, which is 
patronized by the wealthier as well as the lower order of 
that peculiar people. The ground-floor is a kind of 
general utility store for the sale of miscellaneous com- 
estibles. Bright, blue-bloused little China boys, their 
pigtails just sprouting, are squatting on the floors, cutting 
and chopping up meat and vegetables. In the kitchen, 
a few steps above, the cooks are busily at work preparing 
the unsavoury savoury feast for the hungry horde who 
are presently expected to supper. Beef or mutton is 
rarely if ever used in their culinary operations. Pork, 
rats, rabbits, geese, or fowls form the staple part of their 
substantial food, but these are never eaten in their 
natural simplicity ; they are disguised- and minced, and 
mixed with spices, vegetables, entrails, oil, and rancid 
butter, sometimes stewed, and sometimes being rolled in 
a thin wafery crust of paste. We saw plenty of these 



l80 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

arranged for frying, like sausages in disguise. There is a 
greasy oleaginous look about everything, a smell like rusty 
bacon everywhere. A culinary war was being carried on 
in the kitchen, the pots and pans were specially clean and 
bright, the cooks went clattering round lifting lids and 
stirring one thing after another, and handing us a long 
iron spoon hospitably invited us to dip in and taste, 
assuring us it was " velly good," which invitation I need 
not say we courteously refused. A few steps higher on 
the first floor is the dining-room or grand saloon, which is 
only used by the wealthy merchants. It is furnished 
with very dark walnut, with quaint ebony carvings of 
birds, curious beasts, and flowers, all beautifully executed, 
and worthy of a better place. The tables and chairs 
were of the same heavy dark material. The room was 
divided in two by a wide archway. There was an alcove 
on one side for musicians, and all kinds of queer, quaint 
musical instruments, some twisted like serpents, some like 
grotesque, misshapen guitars, w^ere hung against the wall. 
Lacquered cabinets and tea-trays, with tiny covered cups 
and saucers, and hideous bronze ornaments, were scattered 
around. Rich tapestried hangings were draped across 
the windows, and the wide balcony was filled with flowers, 
and a string of lighted lanterns were hung over the out- 
side railings. On one side of the room, about two feet 
from the ground, was a raised platform covered with 
matting and cushions, a block of wood in the centre to 
hold a lamp. Thither the luxurious Mongolian retires to 
smoke the inevitable opium when the feast is over. At 
the entrance-door of all eating-rooms stands a bowl of 



THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. l8l 

chop-Sticks ; each guest as he enters supplies himself with 
a pair. The floor above is arranged in a simpler, rougher 
fashion for an inferior class of visitors. The floor above 
that is simpler and rougher still. And so the grade goes 
upward, and so does the tea. The real, fine, aromatic 
herb, in all perfection, is served on the first floor ; water 
is added to the leaves (for they are an economical race), 
and served on the second ; more water for the third. And 
so on, till a decoction of damaged water is served to the 
lowest, albeit the highest class of guests, for the poorer class 
here mount heavenward so far as this earth is concerned. 
Laundries abound, though they are by no means 
confined to Chinatown. They are found in all quarters of 
San Francisco. • Sometimes the Chinese laundry is a mere 
wooden shed, wedged in between tall houses, or standing 
in some out-of-the-way nook, where you would hardly 
think of pitching a pigsty. We passed some of these 
rickety places, the white linen drying on the roofs, flap- 
ping to and fro in a weird, ghastly fashion in the moon- 
light. The work is carried en by night as well as by day, 
for these moon-eyed Mongolians are a most industrious 
race, and in their economy of time and space a double 
set of workmen occupy a single room, and labour in 
relays. When the day-labourer retires to his shelf the 
night-worker rises from it, and carries on the business till 
the morning ; so the fire is never out, and the starching, 
ironing, plaiting, and pleating is always going on. Passing 
through the streets of San Francisco at any hour of the 
night you see the faint glimmer of the laundry-lamp 
flickering through the dingy window-panes. 



l82 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 



1 



We next turned into one of their many Joss houses, 
where the worship of their hideous idols was in full swing. M 
We ascended a dingy, dirty staircase and entered a large " 
room on the first floor, which was furnished with gods 
and altars of all descriptions. Crowds of worshippers 
were passing to and fro, now in single file, now in 
battalions ; some were smoking, some were conversing in 
their low, liquid language one with another. One jerked 
his head with a kind of familiar nod, which was meant 
for a reverential obeisance to a specially ugly deity. 
Another threw a stick into the air in front of the altar, 
and according to the way it pointed as it fell his prayer 
would be granted or not. I do not know whether Joss 
was propitious, but his worshipper picked up the stick 
and retreated downstairs. There was certainly no 
established set form in this religious business ; but I 
suppose there must on occasions be some special cere- 
monials when priests are needed, for two or three of them, 
dressed in the fashion of stage heralds, came out from a 
little back room, stared at us, and retreated, closing the 
door behind them. The worshippers passed in and out, 
and to and fro among their gods with perfect nonchalance. 
There was neither reverence, nor superstitious awe, nor 
fanatical devotion visible among them. What seemed to 
be their favourite, judging from the number of his wor- 
shippers, was a huge monster like an immense painted 
wooden doll, with flaming vermilion cheeks, and round 
black eyes starting from his head. He was dressed in 
wooden robes of the gaudiest, strongly contrasted colours, 
and suriounded by all kinds of tinselled magnificence, in 



i 



THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. 1 83 

the way of gilt paper, artificial wreaths, and wax roses as 
large as cabbages, while standing before him on the altar 
was a bowl of ashes stuck full of Joss sticks, some burnt 
out, some still smouldering, the offering of later wor- 
shippers. 

The altar is of ivory, and is exquisitely carved and gilt. 
It illustrates the history of some great battle which was 
fought two thousand years ago. It is protected, and so 
partly hidden, by a wire network. There are sundry other 
smaller altars and idols in the same room. Some are dis- 
torted libels on the human form divine ; others are gro- 
tesque representations of birds, beasts, or reptiles held 
sacred by the Chinese ; some are of bronze, or of brass, 
and some of painted wood. There are no seats, and the 
floor is thickly sprinkled with sawdust. The walls are 
hung with scarlet and blue paper prayers and gilt thanks- 
givings. Among these was an advertisement, which our 
guide translated to us. It was the offer of a reward, not 
for the discovery of a murderer, but a reward for the com- 
mittal of a murder. Ah Fooh and Wong Ah had roused 
the anger of the great Joss, who promises to grant the 
prayers and take into special favour him who will put the 
obnoxious Ah Fooh and Wong Ah out of the way ; viz. 
the gods will favour him who commits the crimes, which 
are no crimes when the gods command their committal. 
Our guide informed us that the objectionable parties would 
assuredly "disappear," no one would know how, or when, 
or where. Such murders are never discovered. The 
Celestials hold their secrets close, and it rarely happens 
that one will bear evidence against another in our courts 



1 84 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

of law. If he does, well, it is likely enough he " disap- 
pears " too. They care nothing for our laws and customs, 
and have a supreme contempt for our legal institutions. 
They have their exits and their entrances, their lotteries, 
their imports, exports, diversions, secret tribunals, and 
punishments of which we know nothing. They are under 
the surveillance and rule of the Six Companies, who hold 
supreme authority over them. They have laws within our 
laws, which are to us as a sealed book. They rarely, if 
ever, appeal to the United States authorities for the settle- 
ment of their difficulties. If they do the judgment is sure 
to be reversed in their own courts, the prosecutor is tried 
and punished by the secret tribunal, and the whole affair 
is shrouded in a mystery that the outside world can never 
penetrate. 

We passed from this large and most important chamber 
through a nest of dingy, dirty rooms, each presided over 
by a god or goddess more or less hideously grotesque, and 
lighted only by a tiny glass lamp, which hangs before 
every shrine, and is kept burning night and day. Each 
has a bronze bowl of Joss sticks burning in his or her 
honour, filling the air with smoky, stifling incense. Lying 
about on sundry small tables are miniature copies of their 
ugly idols, and tiny curiosities in the shape of birds, beasts, 
and fishes, all part and parcel of Chinese mythology. 
There were some superb china vases (which would make 
the eye of the collector twinkle), filled with tawdry paper 
flowers, standing here and there among Joss sticks and 
split bamboos, sometimes used in the interpretation or 
divination of the will of the gods. Brummagem decora- 



THE FLOWERY KINGDOM. 185 

tions and tinselled magnificence abound everywhere. In 
one room was a curious adobe oven. We wondered whether 
it was used to bake Christians or purify the heathen, but 
we learned that it was used at certain seasons of the year 
when Satan is symbolically burned, he being represented 
on the occasion by torn strips of red paper, which have 
been appropriately cursed and sentenced by the priest- 
hood. The smaller gods had fewer worshippers, and it 
was strange to observe there was not a single woman among 
them. Perhaps, having no souls to be saved in the next 
world, they have grown weary of praying for the good 
things of this. In every room, great and small, there is a 
rough wooden structure like a very tall stool. Within it 
hangs a bell, and above it either a gong or a big drum. 
These are used to rouse the drowsy gods from their slum- 
bers, or to attract their attention when they have been too 
long forgetful of the desires of their devotees. Wherever 
we went a crowd of these olive-skinned, pig-tailed figures 
gathered silently as shadows about us, staring at us with 
their melancholy, expressionless eyes. The Chinese seem 
all to be made on one pattern. They have all the same 
serenity of face, of gait, and manner ; their features never 
stir, their eyes never vary, they never gesticulate, are never 
excited : only the meaningless smile that is " childlike and 
bland " occasionally creeps over their faces. The more 
w^e see of these strange, passionless people, the stranger 
they seem to us, and we more fully recognize that they are 
an utterly alien race, whom we can never comprehend. 
Looking on their sphinxlike faces we wonder what feel- 
ings, what human passions, what emotions, lie hidden be- 



1 86 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

neath them. We might as well try to solve the riddle of 
the Sphinx's self. But in spite of their impassibility we 
feel that the barbarous element is there, steady, strong, and 
cruel. The Chinese are a puzzle, which the subtlest minds 
have failed to piece together. California has a hard nut 
to crack, and I fear it will break its teeth before it gets to 
the kernel. 





CHAPTER XVII. 




A WORLD UNDERGROUND. 

The Pawnbroker's Shop — The Opium Dens — The Smokers — A 
World within a World — The Women's Quarters. 

E were rather tired of our night's wandering, but 
as we did not desire to encroach upon the kind- 
ness of our guide by occupying his time on an- 
other evening, we resolved to see all that was to be seen 
at once ; we therefore retired to a restaurant for a tempo- 
rary rest and refreshed ourselves with tiny cups of tea. 
Neither milk nor sugar is served with this refreshment ; 
only a grape or raisin is swimming in the liquid amber, 
which has a delicious flavour, quite different from the 
finest Chinese tea imported for European consumption. 
Our escort endeavoured to dissuade us from farther pene- 
tration into the mysteries of Chinatown, as he feared we 
might be shocked at the sights and scenes there ; but we 
had left our nerves at home, so girding on our mental 
armour, we sallied forth again. 

We turned into Sacramento Street, and descended one 
of those cellar flaps, where the barber was still busy with 
his tonsorial operations. We passed through his pigtailed 

187 



1 88 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

congregation of customers, some of whom looked as 
though they sorely needed combing, and found ourselves 
in a dingy pawnbroker's shop, lighted by a single oil 
lamp, and certainly not more than twelve feet square ; 
but every nook and corner, hole and crevice, from floor to 
ceiling, was crammed with a miscellaneous collection of 
unredeemed pledges. There were clocks, caps, quaint 
Chinese ornaments in great variety, which the collector 
might search the civilized world for in vain ; firearms and 
pistols of all patterns and all ages (most of them, we were 
informed, were loaded) ; daggers and knives without end; 
among them was the curious fan- shaped stiletto, which 
may be carried in the hand by a lady without rousing a 
suspicion as to its real use, for when sheathed it represents 
a closed fan ; some of the knives, their favourite weapons 
in social and street warfare, are short and broad, some long 
and narrow ; the most formidable are about a foot long 
and six inches wide ; these are used in pairs, one in each 
hand. Our escort informed us that with these implements 
he had known one belligerent Chinaman slash another into 
an unrecognizable mass in less than five minutes. Besides 
these there were beds, bedding, divers articles of clothing, 
cooking pots and brass pans; in fact, everything except the 
sacred pigtail, without which a Chinaman can hope for no 
honour in this world nor any glory in the next. 

Through this, we stooped our heads and passed under a 
low doorway into a black hole — I can describe it in no 
other way — where there was a bin for ashes or kitchen ref- 
use and a heap of battered pots and pans ; a wooden bench 
or stool, black with grime, a few wooden bowls and chop- 



A WORLD UNDERGROUND. 1 89 

Sticks, while sundry bits of rags hung on a line over our 
heads. A coolie was crouching over the fire in one cor- 
ner, stirring some horrible compound with a long wooden 
spoon. The fire sputtered and sent forth feeble flame 
flashes and dense volumes of smoke, through which the 
swarthy form of the crouching coolie loomed upon our 
sight like the evil genie of some Arabian tale. This was 
a kitchen ! There was no chimney, no window, no drain- 
age. And in this foul den scores of hungry Celestials 
would come presently to feed. From this we entered a 
labyrinth of galleries, running in all directions. On either 
side were rows of small chambers, honeycombed with an 
economy of space that outwits the invention of the white 
man altogether. The majority of these are just long 
enough to lie down in, and broad enough for a narrow door 
to open between the two beds of straw, each of which 
contains two sleepers. On reaching the end of this gal- 
lery, we were informed that it was a hundred and twenty 
feet long. There is no ventilation, and not a breath of air 
enters, except from the cellar through which we entered, 
and even that comes filtered through the barber's and 
pawnbroker's shops before alluded to. 

We gladly return to the fresh air, but only for a mo- 
ment's breathing-space before descending to still deeper 
depths. The very bowels of the earth, it seems, are riddled 
and honeycombed by these human moles, who, like the 
ghost of the murdered Dane, can 'Svork in the dark." 
We light a candle, which burns but feebly in the subter- 
ranean darkness of this double night. We thread our way 
single file, keeping always within an inch of our escort's 



190 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

coat-tail, and descend into these lower regions. Here in 
the heart of a city filled with light and beauty, we find 
ourselves groping our way two storeys underground by the 
light of a tallow candle ! Through dingy courts and 
alleys, up steps and down steps, round corners, and up or 
down zigzag stairways, we explore the mysteries of China- 
town. It is as dark as Erebus ; only the light of our one 
solitary dip flickers in our eyes ; we feel as though there 
is something weird and ghastly clinging to ourselves, for 
our voices have a smothered, hollow sound, even to our 
own ears. No one really knows how far these human 
gophers have burrowed underground ; they wander, it 
seems, from one living grave to another ; perhaps to avoid 
taxation, the assassin, or the grip of the law. It is a dis- 
mal city of refuge for lost souls. 

If Dante could have cast his sorrowful eyes into these 
dark regions, he would have found here an appalling 
reality which outstrips the imaginary horrors with which 
he has. illustrated his Inferno. We gather up our skirts 
and pick our way slowly, for the ground is slippery with 
Heaven knows what, and the walls are reeking with black 
slime, the odour is horrible, and everywhere there is an 
accumulation of filth which ought to breed fever and 
death, but does not. We suddenly turn into another of 
these narrow galleries ; on either side are mangy-looking 
curtains, some partially closed, some open ; the ceiling is 
so low we can almost touch it standing on tiptoe, yet on 
either side there are two tiers of hard wooden boards, 
divided by a sHght partition into sections, each being 
large enough for two occupants, and every bunk is full. 



I J 



A WORLD UNDERGROUND. I9I 

This is one of the numerous opium dens. Some are pre- 
paring the enchanting poison — a tedious process, which 
reminds one of an incantation scene ; the two lie face to 
face, chatting in low voices, a look of deHcious anticipa- 
tion glowing in every feature ; they recline at full length, 
their heads reposing upon blocks of wood or roughly im- 
provised straw pillows ; a small lamp flickers between 
them ; their long pipes are of bamboo cane ; at the lower 
end of the stem is an earthen bowl; a jar of opium, a kind 
of thick, black paste, stands close to the lamp ; the 
smokers dip a wire into this paste and then hold it in the 
flame till the particles of paste which cling to it fizzes 
and bubbles ; it is then deposited on the rim of the 
pipe-bowl, and the smoker at once inhales three or four 
whiffs, which empties the pipe, and the process of refilling 
is renewed. It is evident y a labour of love with them, 
for their eyes glisten and gloat upon the bubbling drug. 
They take no heed of us ; we are mere mortals, they are 
far on the road to paradise. Their talk grows gradually 
less and less, feebler and feebler ; their low laughter has 
a delirious sound ; their eyes are filled with a dreamy 
Hght, but their lips are glued to that magic tube ; they 
are rapidly floating away to a land we know not of ; their 
fingers relax their hold ; they sink back upon their pillows 
and are suddenly silent ; their dusky faces ashen pale, 
having the look of some plague-stricken corpse : this one 
pair of opium-smokers represents the many. We drop 
the curtain and pass on, making our observations as we 
go. Some have had their delirious dream and are slug- 
gishly stirring, slowly awakening back to life, and with 



192 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

wan, haggard faces stagger out of the dingy den into open 
day ; some flit past us Hke ghostly shadows, wandering 
through the shades of Hades ; they glide along shrinking 
against the wall, and stare at us with lack-lustre eyes, 
mere spectres of humanity, not humanity itself. But 
when such men as William Blair, Richard Baxter, De 
Quincey, Coleridge, and others become victims to the 
habit of opium-eating, what wonder is it that an enslaved 
and degraded race should rush into a temporary world of 
dreams and enjoy its delirious delights, little heeding of 
the thraldom eternal and immutable which will follow 
their awakening ? 

This terrible drug (which, for a time, fills the brain 
with feverish dreams of ecstatic delight, but is the sure 
forerunner of unimaginable horrors and agonizing death) 
lies within the reach of all. One of the most celebrated 
opium-eaters tells us that "happiness may be bought for 
a penny and carried in the waistcoat pocket, portable 
ecstasies may be had corked up in a pint bottle, and peace 
of mind may be sent out in gallons by the mail-coach." 
In some parts of India opium is taken by the criminal 
condemned to death. If he can only get his brain filled 
with opium fumes he may be said to die happy. We 
grope our way through this Inferno, obscured by the 
dense smoke of the poisonous drug, and are glad to 
breathe the fresh air of heaven once more. 

Then we pass on to the women's quarters. The Chi- 
nese rarely, very rarely bring their wives or families across 
the water ; but they import large numbers of female 
slaves of the most degraded class, and for the most im- 



A WORLD UNDERGROUND. I93 

moral purposes. These poor creatures have no sense of 
degradation, no knowledge of morality, they but fulfil the 
condition they are born to. So loosely, indeed, are social 
and domestic ties held by these people, that if a wife dis- 
pleases her husband, or a child her parent, they have the 
right, and frequently exercise it, too, to sell either one or 
other to some trafficker in human kind, and take the 
profits as in any other mercantile transaction. A sense of 
dignity or family pride prevents the higher class of Chi- 
nese from entering into this sale or ba%er business. They 
have other ways of disposing of their surplus woman- 
kind. 

We entered a long and narrow court with tall, dark 
houses on either side, so tall they seemed to shut out the 
skies ; but in this confined space are domiciled twelve 
hundred of these female slaves, for slaves they are still, 
though sojourning in a free land, and by the law free 
agents, but the law is powerless to reach them. They are 
held in bondage by their own people and by the laws of 
their own nation, which no good Celestial, especially a 
woman, would dare to call in question. They have no 
thought of any higher state. If, by chance, as sometimes 
though rarely happens, a creditor appeals to the United 
States law to settle his affairs, no matter what decision is 
given it is sure to be set aside by their own tribunal, and 
the prosecutor has reason to bewail his teraerity in daring 
to appeal to any other. In all cases, whether of murder 
or lesser criminalities among themselves, they are ex- 
amined, tried, condemned, and their punishment, be it 
torture or death, is carried out by their own secret tribu- 



194 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

nal, whose laws are to us a sealed book, and whose coun- 
cils here are held in some hidden underground spot that 
we know not of. 

We picked our way through the dingy, deserted court, 
for though it was the women's quarter, there was not a 
woman to be seen. Some were evidently indulging in 
social festivities, for the sound of the gong, rasping 
fiddles, and screeching voices broke upon the silence of 
the night. Shadowy forms, like creatures from another 
w^orld, stole by us with their noiseless tread and disap- 
peared in the doorways on either side. We grope our way 
along by the light of our one solitary dip, and become 
suddenly aware of a dim light falling across our pathway. 
We look round and observe an open grating about a foot 
square, and framed therein is the face of a Chinese belle. 
There she is precisely as we see her on our fans and tea- 
trays, her hair dressed in wings or fancy rolls and pinned 
with gilt pins, and profusely decorated with paper flowers 
of various colours, one half of her face being painted a 
bright vermilion in one blotch, beginning from the chin, 
covering the eyebrows, and reaching back to the ear. 
On either side were the same gratings, with the same 
painted beauties behind them, looking out from the grated 
windows into the dark night. There sit those unhand- 
some, unwholesome sirens, like painted spiders, watching 
for their prey. Our escort struck a single thud upon the 
door of one of these houses, which acted like an " open 
sesame." Slowly and silently it swung back upon its 
hinges, and we stepped at once into a small, dimly-lighted 
room furnished with bare benches only. Grouped round 



A WORLD UNDERGROUND. 195 

a tiny lamp upon the floor sat some half dozen women 
engaged in sewing and embroidery work. Other speci- 
mens of this unlovely womanhood in gorgeous celestial 
costume were lounging in waiting attitude about the room. 
The head of this establishment, a repulsive-looking old 
woman with blear almond eyes, jagged, projecting teeth, 
and a yellow skin dried and wrinkled like a piece of old 
parchment, welcomed us warmly in the usual pigeon Eng- 
lish ; the others nudged each other, and giggled and gab- 
bled when we spoke to them, regarding us with curious 
eyes the while. Once, while we were taking a survey 
of things round us the door was opened noiselessly, as 
though on oiled hinges, and a Mongolian man's face ap- 
peared for a second in the aperture, but on catching sight 
of our party it disappeared, and the door swung silently 
to again. There was one very young girl about fifteen 
among this degraded sisterhood ; she was really pretty, a 
perfect type of Chinese beauty, with a delicate olive com- 
plexion, wdth a sweet, childlike, innocent expression of 
countenance — innocent because utterly ignorant and 
dead to any sense of shame or wrong, blind to the moral 
ugliness of the life of which she formed a part, because 
her baby eyes had seen nothing else, she had been reared 
in it and for it. Knowing no other aim or purpose in 
life, the mystery of modesty or purity was a thing un- 
known. We shook hands w4th this child woman and 
spoke to her, but she only laughed and shook her head. 
We wondered how this young thing had fallen into this 
revolting company. ^'' Had she a mother?" we inquired. 
" No," the ogress of the den answered, " she all mine, me 



196 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS, 

buy her, her mother sell her for tlee hunnerd dollars. 
She velly good — she bling plenty money." 

Though nominally free, these poor creatures are so 
utterly the property of their owners that they have no 
redress for ill-treatment or wrong. However they are ill- 
used or beaten they dare not complain ; for them lives no 
human sympathy, no mortal regard ; they are mere bits of 
animated clay, and nothing more. They are never al- 
lowed in the public streets, but live out their lives in 
these dingy dens, and when they are no longer useful in 
their way, are flung out in the gutter to rot and die. We 
went up stairs and found scores of frowsy men and 
women, smoking, playing dominoes, or eating rice with 
chop-sticks, flinging it down their throats with marvellous 
rapidity as though they were eating for a wager. Once 
we fancied we had stumbled on a bit of Chinese domes- 
ticity. We found social groups of men and women drink- 
ing tea together in a homely fashion. Our inquiry as to 
their matrimonial relations was received with a suppressed 
chuckle ; the idea of any woman being the wife of any 
man struck them as a novel style of joking. I must not 
omit to say that these, as a rule, were the cleanest and 
neatest rooms we had seen in the whole of Chinatown. 

We went our way through the silent moonlight with a 
strange, weird feeling falling over us, as though we had 
been wandering in dreamland, or living through the misty 
pages of the " Arabian Nights." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 

Gambling Dens — Theatres — An Acrobatic Performance — New Year's 
Visits — The Bride — The Hoodlum — A Scare — The Matron's Pretty 
Feet. 




'AMBLING is another of the favourite vices of 
the Chinese, and is popularly indulged in by 
all classes, though it is strictly forbidden by the 
United States' laws ; but the evasion of legal authority is 
mere child's play to them. These numerous gambling 
dens are so carefully guarded that only the private police 
(some of whom, I am told, are in the pay of the Celestial 
authorities, and when gold dust is thrown in the eyes who 
can help blinking ?) can ferret them out, and only then 
on rare occasions and with great difficulty. 

So great is their passion for games of chance that they 
will sell or pledge anything to obtain the means to indulge 
in it. Not only are cards, dice, and dominoes used, but 
straws, sticks, brass rings, etc., are thrown upon a table, 
or on a mat upon the ground, while silent, eager faces 
crowd round, and the fate of the players literally hangs 
upon a breath. There are a hundred of these establish- 
ments under the eyes of the police. Some of them employ 

197 



1 98 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

private spies to warn them in case of danger ; but these 
places are seldom raided by the police, for they know it 
is almost impossible to storm the barriers in time to catch 
delinquents in the act. On the first sign of danger a 
warning signal is sounded throughout the building, and a 
sudden change seems to take place in th^ ground plan ; 
passages are shut off ; the pursuer, rushing along the 
winding ways he thought he knew, finds himself in a blind 
alley ; a mysterious sliding-panel takes the place of a 
door, or he rushes into the suspected chamber, — he is 
fooled again ! He finds nothing there, only a harmless 
Celestial, smiling and bland, most innocently employed 
making a cup of tea ! Every sign of guilt is swept away. 
The arch hypocrite knew the enemy was coming long 
before he had time to appear. 

Dramatic performances, too, are a passion with the 
Chinese. In a space of half a mile there are no less than 
four theatres, though there is nothing to distinguish these 
places of amusement from the general run of houses ex- 
cept the scarlet hieroglyphics which are pasted on the 
doorposts and a row of paper lanterns over the doorway ; 
sometimes a flag flutters from the balcony. A discordant 
din of gongs, tin trumpets, and squeaking fiddles wanders 
out into the street. Celestial economy of space follows 
us even here. Within a few feet of the entrance door a 
moon-faced Mongolian sits receiving custom, fifty cents 
for admission the beginning of the evening, the charge 
dwindling down to five cents as the hours roll on. A 
paper curtain was lifted aside, we ascended a flight of 
dirty stairs, and were at once ushered into our box, which 



CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 1 99 

had been previously secured for us ; once seated therein, 
we proceeded to survey the scene at our leisure. The 
house was crowded from floor to rafter. It is divided 
into two parts, the pit or parquette, which slopes upward 
from the footlights to the back of the house ; above that 
is a gallery, which extends over and seems ready to fall 
on the heads of those below, and rises steadily backv/ards 
till the last row of Mongolian heads seems to touch the 
ceiling. On one side are three private boxes, if they can 
be called private, for they are simply partitioned off, breast 
high, from the rest of the gallery ; these are reserved for 
the use of the more distinguished visitors. On the oppo- 
site side a similar portion of the gallery is partitioned off 
for the use of the women, for even in this (the only rec- 
reation the poor creatures seem to have) they are not 
allowed to participate with their lords and masters. The 
partitions in all cases are so low that every one is in full 
view of the rest of the house. There is no attempt at 
ornamentation anywhere ; the walls are whitewashed ; 
benches, etc., are all of the roughest description. The 
stage is merely a raised platform, with a few wooden 
steps on either side, up and down which actors and audi- 
ence are constantly passing ; there is no scenery, no 
decoration of any kind. The musicians are seated at the 
back of the stage, and on either side is a curtained door- 
way, through which the entrances and exits are made. 
No drop-scene falls between the acts, and there is no 
attempt at realization anywhere ; no regard is paid to the 
fitness of things. Say there is a wedding, a battle, and a 
death ; the priestly cortege walks out at one door, the 



200 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

warriors enter at another, each whirling one leg as he 
leaps from an imaginary horse ; there is a tremendous 
uproar and they dash at once into the fray. The musi- 
cians in the background are pounding away at their dis- 
cordant instruments, each making as much noise as he 
can with no regard whatever to rule or rhythm, while one 
invincible hero with a pasteboard sword keeps a whole 
army at bay. He slays them by scores, but as fast 
as they are slain they get up, run round to the back, 
and begin the fight over again. At last the hero is over- 
powered ; a hundred swords pierce him to the heart, he 
is trampled on, and he goes through all the contortions of 
a horrible death ; then gets up, smiles, nods at the audi- 
ence, and conquerors and conquered crowd off the stage 
together. 

At the moment we entered a battle royal was going on ; 
the noise was deafening ; we had been warned of this, and 
plugged our ears with cotton-wool, but that was slight 
protection ; the waves of sound struck upon the drums of 
our ears till our brains seemed to feel the blows, and our 
heads ached distractedly. 

It was a strange sight — that mass of shaven faces, their 
slant eyes fixed with intense earnestness on the stage, rev- 
elling with solemn delight in the ludicrous performance. 
They never applaud, they never condemn ; but sit stolidly 
smoking. The women, too, indulge in the fragrant weed, 
and largely patronize the seller of sugar-cane and sweet- 
meats, who stalks about the house with a basketful of these 
dainties on his head, but makes no sound, utters no invita- 
tion to buy. The battle was succeeded by a domestic 



CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 201 

disturbance of the most uncelestial character ; the wife 
ran about the stage screeching like a wild cat, her indig- 
nant lord pursuing her with furious threats and grimaces, 
leaping over invisible chairs and tables. At last a win- 
dow was brought in ; she rushed behind it, and so made 
an imaginary escape from his fury ; being so^far safe, she 
leant out, Juliet-fashion, he miaking frantic attempts to get 
at her ; and they rehearsed their difficulties with an ac- 
companiment of gongs and fiddles, their screeching voices 
reminding us forcibly of a wrangling duet between two 
irate tomcats on the back tiles. This was succeeded by a 
half-military, half-acrobatic performance. First a warrior 
entered with a wild mustache and gray-green beard, mar- 
vellous to behold ; his nose and ears were painted white, 
with black rolling eyes, and altogether a most ferocious 
aspect. He flung his sword up in the air, whirled round on 
one leg, shook his fist menacingly, as though defying some 
one to mortal combat. His challenge was accepted. A 
score of warriors entered, surrounded him, shook their 
swords, and rushed about as though in the fury of battle. 
Soon their arms were flung aside. They had evidently 
changed their minds, and the warfare resolved itself into an 
acrobatic display. They twirled round like dancing der- 
vishes, leapt into the air, made two or three somersaults, 
rolled themselves into balls, fell and rebounded from the 
floor like india-rubber. They turned like wheels upon the 
ground, or spun like tops in the air. So rapid were their 
movements the eye could scarcely follow them. One weird 
half-naked figure, with his face and body painted in 
stripes of different colours, went through the most won- 



202 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

derful contortions. He tied his legs round his neck, 
leaped high in the air and came down upon his elbows, 
walked on his head without the use of his arms or legs, 
rolled himself into a knot and flung himself into the air. 
Having gone through sundry other evolutions too compli- 
cated to mention — indeed, having done everything but 
turn himself inside out — he left off. 

These performances are supposed to lighten and vary 
the dramatic representation, which generally lasts six or 
eight weeks, giving two or three acts every night. 

On the occasion of the Chinese New Year, which fell 
in early February, we accompanied a friend to pay a 
ceremonious visit to some wealthy Chinese merchants, with 
whom he had been in the habit of transacting business. 
It was a general visiting day, when everybody belonging 
to the flowery kingdom called on everybody else. All the 
streets in Chinatown were gaily decorated with flowers, 
flags, and paper lanterns ; gongs were beating, cymbals 
clashing, and fiddles scraping in every direction ; the 
streets were thronged with moon-faced Celestials in gala 
dress, all pricked out and polished fresh from the hands 
of the barber. 

Our first visit was to Ki Chow, one of the leading mer- 
chants of San Francisco. We descended from the street, 
as usual, and found ourselves in a large cellar filled with 
benches and forms ; a fire was burning in one corner, 
where cooking was being carried on. This was where Ki 
Chow's employes fed. Leading out of this was his private 
apartment, which contained a few rough wooden seats, a 
worm-eaten desk, and two tables, furnished on this occa- 



CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 203 

sion with an elaborately chased silver service, goblets, 
tankards, etc., and a display of cut glass of rare antique 
shapes, ornamented with gold and crimson ; decanters filled 
with choice wines, trays and filigree baskets with cakes and 
sweetmeats. On one table was a hideous figure of a fa- 
vourite Joss, before whom a light was burning. Sweets, 
wines, and other good things were placed before him for 
his godship's special entertainment. The liberal and dainty 
display on the other non-illuminated table was for our 
mortal gratification. We were compelled by Chinese 
etiquette to take a tiny toy glass of wine, which we cau- 
tiously sipped, it being a foreign production, and as our 
host informed us, " velly stlong ; " it was rich, luscious, 
and of a peculiar flavour. '' It velly good, it made of 
lice," said Ki Chow, the loss of the unpronounceable "r " 
in this case giving the announcement a peculiar charac- 
ter. He next passed round tiny blue willow-patterned 
plates, containing cake covered with red cabalistic charac- 
ters, dried fruits, nuts, candied water-melon, and numer- 
ous uij^nown uninviting compounds of a gelatinous na- 
ture. The fruits and candies w^ere very good ; the oily 
cakes we could not bring ourselves to touch. Ki Chow 
invited us into the cellar adjoining, which was his bed- 
room ; it contained a bed with silken hangings, chairs, and 
a table decorated with a vase of blooming flowers, which 
seemed sorely out of place in this dingy stifling nook, 
lighted only, like a prison, from a grating along the top. 
Ki's wardrobe was strung up on a line overhead. He was 
evidently proud of his bachelor quarters. He nodded, 
smiled, and volunteered the information — 



204 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

" Me have tlee wives, all gone back to China ; when 
they here, me have big house." 

On our expressing a desire to see a Chinese lady, he 
offered to present us to a friend who had lately married 
and brought his wife to San Francisco. We accepted the 
invitation and accompanied him to Wong How's forth- 
with. It was a large roomy house in Sacramento Street ; 
the entrance-door was on the latch as usual, and we as- 
cended a flight of cleanly swept stairs to the first floor ; 
one tap at the door and it was opened by a most majestic- 
looking Chinese gentleman, very handsomely dressed in 
blue silk and gold embroidery. 

He received us with high-bred courtesy, with a layer of 
formality on the top of his politeness ; he spoke in the 
purest English we had heard from Mongolian lips. This 
apartment was very handsomely furnished, with quaintly 
carved ebony chairs, and lounges and tables beautifully 
inlaid in the finest style of Chinese art, some with gold 
filigree, others with ivory or tortoise-shell, and the win- 
dows were draped with curtains of gorgeously embroidered 
silk. Here, too, were tables spread, one for the god, one 
for the visitors. 

We had scarcely seated ourselves when other visitors 
began to arrive in quick succession, one after the other, and 
host and guests salaamed and saluted each other in true 
Oriental fashion, lifting the two hands to their foreheads, 
and bending lower and lower till their heads almost 
touched the ground ; then followed handshaking, and a 
babble of soft, liquid tongues, evidently exchanging cor- 
dial good wishes. We inquired for the lady. 



CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 20$ 

" Oh I she come plesently ; she flightened ; me only 
mallied tlee months, and she never seen no more man 
but me ; to-day she bUng coffee and sweets for evely- 
body ; it is our custom fol a wife to wait on her husband's 
fliends once in evely year ; she never see man other 
times." 

In a few minutes the poor Httle bride entered, bearing a 
silver tray filled with little cups of the national beverage. 
She was gorgeously dressed in pink silk, trimmed with 
silver embroidery, interspersed with pearls, her hair bowed 
and puffed, and decorated with pins and flowers, accord- 
ing to the fashion of her people. She was leaning on two 
waiting-maids, who had much ado to support her totter- 
ing steps between them. She was painfully shy, and 
trembled, so that the cups and saucers rattled on the tray, 
and kept her eyes fixed upon the ground, trying to screen 
her face with a large feather fan ; but we could see her 
lips quiver, and the deep blushes that dyed her face and 
neck contrasted with the red paint upon her cheeks. We 
compassionated her distress too much to keep her long 
under our gaze, and having received our empty cups upon 
the tray, she was scurrying off in a great hurry to get out 
of sight, but was somewhat harshly recalled by her lord, 
and more dead than alive, blushing and trembling more 
than before, she dragged herself across the room to 
serve her master's friends as any other slave would have 
done. 

" She velly pletty," remarked Wong How confidentially 
to me, as the poor creature shuffled off the scene. Of 
course we contributed our share of admiration, and 



206 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

her owner coolly said : " Me got two more like that in 
China." 

We were the only Europeans present, and while we 
were gathering scraps of information from our host, the 
door opened and some rakish-looking young hoodlums, 
the special production of San Francisco, being a cross 
between the French gamin and the English rough, half 
entered the room, exclaiming with a jaunty, patronizing 
air — 

" How are you, John ? We've come to pay you a 
morning call ; hope you're glad to see us." Our host 
stepped forward with much dignity, saying — 

"Excuse me, I have ladies here." The intruders at 
this moment caught sight of us, snatched off their caps, 
and with some half-uttered apology beat a hasty retreat. 
A number of cigars and a quantity of sweets, which they 
had no doubt purloined from some other " John," rolled 
out of. their hats upon the floor, and they never stopped to 
pick them up. Wong How secured the door from further 
intrusion. 

We were listening to the chatter and watching the col- 
lection of dark expressionless faces, when Ki Chow's 
countenance suddenly changed ; an unearthly pallor over- 
spread his face ; he lifted his finger with a rapid motion. 
" Come ! " he exclaimed, as he flew to the door and de- 
scended the stairs, we following as fast as our feet could 
carry us. Arrived in the street, we hurried after Ki Chow 
and inquired " What was the matter ? What had occa- 
sioned his sudden flight ? He had not even given us time 
to exchange parting civilities with his friends ! " By this 



CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 20/ 

time Ki had recovered his usual equanimity ; he turned 
upon us a face smiling and bland ; innocent and uncon- 
scious as a child he exclaimed — 

" Me no understand. Me takee see other lady." 

What it was that caused our sudden retreat we shall 
never know. It must have been something serious, for I 
shall never forget the horror-struck expression of Ki 
Chow's face. Until that moment he. had most deferen- 
tially made way for us to precede him ; then, he had flown 
down the stairs, his blouse and pigtail flying behind him, 
merely calling to us " Come ! " 

The "other lady," to whom he now introduced us, was 
a matron of five years' standing ; a relative of his, I be- 
lieve. We found her in a similarly handsome apartment 
to that we had just left, attended by two maids, who stood 
behind her and only moved to assist her in rising or walk- 
ing. At her feet was a quaint little bit of living China, a 
miniature man, pigtail included, frolicking among his 
toy-gods and tin soldiers. He stared at us with his 
beady black eyes and retreated behind his mamma, who 
rose up saying — 

" How you do ? Me velly well." She shook hands and 
invited us to be seated. She spoke a little English, gig- 
gled a good deal, seemed pleased with our admiration of 
her clothes and of herself (for she was as gorgeously 
apparelled as the other), and appeared ready and willing 
to gratify our curiosity so far as she was able. We ex- 
amined the gold ornaments she wore upon her arms and 
neck, and the huge hoops in her ears. Her outer dress 
was of light blue, artistically and richly embroidered with 



208 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

silk, the colours beautifully blended together. We picked 
up her long loose sleeve and counted six dresses which 
she wore one over the other, all of different-coloured 
silks ; they were so soft that the whole together did not 
seem much thicker than half a dozen layers of tissue- 
paper ! We examined her complicated head-dress, which 
was quite an architectural trophy, so greased and waxed 
and strained, such wings on one side, such plastered puffs 
on the other. We inquired how much time was daily 
spent in the arrangement. 

" Me no dless evely day. Me takee down in tlee or 
four days, and doee up again." 

" How do you lie down ? how do you sleep ? " we in- 
quired. She despatched a maid for her pillow— a round 
block of wood, covered with silk— which she placed at 
the back of her neck. 

"Me sleep so, allee same so." A novel way of taking 
rest. 

We showed her our big feet ; she showed us her little 
feet, i.e. a small misshapen hoof. We had always be- 
lieved that the Chinese ladies really had small baby-feet 
which had never been allowed to grow ; but Ki Chow, 
informed us that they never meddle with the feet till the 
child is from six to eight years old, when they gather the 
toes together and twist them under the foot, then bind 
them with strong ligatures, which on no pretence what- 
ever are loosened or taken off for two years, the whole 
of which time the child is, of course, undergoing great 
torture. 

" Me have two little girls in China," said Ki Chow, 



CHINESE AMUSEMENTS. 



209 



coolly. " My wife lite me word she makee tlem pletty 
feet now, and they cly, cly, all night, all day, allee same, 
till two years gone." 

It would be curious to inquire how this barbarous cus- 
tom first obtained, and how long, in these days when en- 
lightenment is creeping into the heart of China, it will be 
permitted to endure. 





CHAPTER XIX. 

CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. • 

Old Friends — The Ranche — Christmas Day — Salinas Valley — A 
Magic City — A California Sunset. 




HRISTMAS has come. So the almanac tells 
us, but we can scarcely accept the fact, Christ- 
mas being associated, in our minds, with frost 
and snow, fogs and rain, which seem so far away now we 
feel as though the damp, chill atmosphere could never 
enfold us again. Here we look from our windows on a 
bright, sunlit scene, where the tall, green palms stand fair 
and stately in the city gardens, and calla lilies lift their 
fair faces to be kissed by the sun. The skies are intensely 
blue, and the breeze clear, cool, and invigorating as the 
breath of our own spring mornings. Every day we say, 
"This is the finest we have ever seen," but the morrow 
comes and brings with it another as lovely as the last. 
Our thoughts fly homeward, as, indeed, they often do. We 
know that the sleet is beating against the windows, the 
bleak wind tearing through the streets, whistling through 
every crevice, chilling the marrow of those who are shiver- 



CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. 211 

ing at the fireside, while the world without is lying stiff 
and rigid in its shroud of winter snow. We think of the 
friends who have been so long and so dearly associated 
with this season. The charmed circle was broken " A year 
and more agone ! " Since then link by link has dropped, 
familiar faces have faded into shadowy memories. One 
after another, they have followed rapidly '' into the silent 
land," "the land of the great departed," till this world 
seems to be growing empty and the next filling so fast 
we feel we shall scarcely be sorry when the order comes 
for us to " move on " and join them. 

But here the sun is shining, and somehow, in spite of 
the leaden weight upon our spirits, there is something in 
this health-laden air that stirs the spirit and sets the pulse 
of life flowing as in its first springtide ; and, though we 
know the autumn of life is upon us and the winter may 
not be far off, ready to sprinkle its last snows upon our 
heads and write finis to our life's history, yet our hearts 
grow lighter and rise, as though inflated with this brilliant 
atmosphere, till we feel like floating away in the sunshine. 
After all, the living must march ever onward, and leave 
the dead days mouldering behind them. 

We loved the city which our new friends had made so 
pleasant to us, but we were not sorry to pack up and leave 
it for a while. We were going to spend the Christmas on 
a Californian ranche with some old friends who were closely 
connected with the "days that are bygone," but who had 
been living in the wild part of this Western world for the 
last five-and-twenty years. No doubt we each expected 
the other to be changed past recognition ; for my part, I 



2 12 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

thought to find the dashing young officer, who had borne 
himself so bravely during the Russian campaign, developed, 
through agricultural association and pursuits, into a Cali- 
fornian farmer, somewhat lanky about the lower limbs, 
hollow-cheeked, and with the soft and by no means un- 
pleasant drawl of the native Calif ornian. I do not know why 
I was so strongly impressed with this imaginary portrait, 
for, since my advent into the State, my preconceived opin- 
ions concerning it had undergone a rapid transition ; things 
were so different from what I had expected ; even the 
Californian drawl had dwindled into a thing more imagi- 
nary than real. 

We leave San Francisco on Christmas Eve, a brilliant, 
sunshiny day, and take our seats in the cars of the South 
Pacific Railway, with a protest against the heat, for De- 
cember being a winter month according to the division of 
time, the stoves are lighted at either end of the car ; the 
blinds are closed to keep out the burning rays of the sun, 
but they keep in the stifling hot air of the stoves till the 
crowded car becomes uncomfortably close and warm. 
The rest of the passengers sit and bake in uncomplaining 
calm ; to us the suffocating air grows unendurable ; we 
get out and sit upon the steps of the rear platform, and are 
whirled along through pretty home scenery at the not 
especially rapid rate of twenty miles an hour. We have 
not long been in possession of this position when a polite 
brakesman taps me on the shoulder. 

'* Sorry to interrupt you, ma'am, but you see what's 
written there," he said, pointing to a warning above the 
car door. 



CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. 213 

I look up and shake my head with the blank ignorance 
of the "heathen Chinee." " I can't read," I say. 

He translates the sentence : " Passengers are strictly 
forbidden to stand on the platforms." 

''Ah ! but we are not standing," I exclaim, exultingly, 
"and there is no prohibition against sitting^ 

He smiles, vanquished, and leaves us in possession of 
the field. 

After a run of about four hours, we steam into Salinas 
station. But few passengers alight. The generality are 
going to places beyond. We had scarcely time to step 
out upon the platform and glance round, when the only 
occupant thereof — a tall stately gentleman — came hur- 
riedly towards us, and, in unmistakable British accents, 
welcomed us most cordially. The tones of the well-re- 
membered voice came back to me like the melody of an 
old song that has slept in the memory for years and is 
awakened suddenly by a new singer in a new land. A 
bridge seemed to be flung over the gap of time, and we 
old friends met as though we had parted but yesterday. 
Yes ; we had both changed. I had developed from a 
mere thread paper to — but no man (or woman either) is 
bound to criminate him or herself. He had grown from a 
rather languid, delicate young fellow to a strong, stalwart 
man, broad-chested, with muscles and biceps which war- 
ranted him to come off only second best in a tussle with a 
grizzly ; the fine-featured face was bronzed and full, but 
the smile and the kind brown eyes were still the same. 
He pointed out to us the ranche as we bowled over the 
rough, uneven road. It is about three miles distant from 



214 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

Salinas, and, being situated in the flat, extensive valley, it 
was visible from the moment we left the station behind us. 
The tall, substantial windmill which surmounts the water- 
works, and the numerous white adobe buildings gathered 
round the main dwelling-house, give it the appearance of 
a pretty rural village lying sleepily in the sunshine. 

The Valley of Salinas itself is neither pretty nor inter- 
esting. It is about twenty miles long and proportionately 
wide. The land is rich and productive, and every rood 
is well under cultivation ; but we miss the beautiful green 
hedges which divide the fields and border the pleasant 
country lanes in the old country. Here there is no such 
luxuriant landmark ; not a bush, not a tree to be seen ; 
nothing but the wide, level plain surrounded by a perfect 
amphitheatre of hills and mountains covered with dark 
pine or sombre fir trees. Occasionally, we are told, their 
bald heads are covered with snow, which is rarely known 
to reach the valley below. 

The ranche stands some distance from the roadway, 
and is approached by a long, wide avenue. On either 
side are planted rows of trees, which don't seem inclined 
to grow ; they look weird and sickly, and, though they 
have been coaxed and nursed in the best agricultural 
fashion, they will not put on their dress of luxuriant 
green ; they look dismal and melancholy, as though they 
wanted to expand into respectable, shady trees, but have 
not the heart to do it ; they seem to feel the cruel gopher 
feeding on their roots and sending the poisoned sap 
through their tender veins. This is the third year this 
experiment has been tried and failed, as it is failing now. 



CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. 21$ 

We drive through this avenue and through an old- 
fashioned, arched, adobe gateway into an open courtyard. 
On one side is a collection of adobe buildings, the dwell- 
ing-places of former inhabitants, but which are now used 
as barns or lumber-sheds, and are the sleeping-places for 
the farm-labourers. On another side is a low range of 
adobe rooms or houses, comfortably fitted up, where some 
of the male members of the family sleep. On the left- 
hand side is the family residence, a comfortable frame 
house, two storeys high, which was sent out from Eng- 
land years ago, and, after travelling half the world over, 
was planted in that far-away corner of the Western world. 
It is arranged and furnished in every way according to 
the requirements of a refined and cultivated English 
family. A large hall has been added to the main build- 
ing, forty feet long by twenty wide, with a great, old- 
fashioned bay-window at one end, looking out in a sweet, 
wild wilderness of a flower-garden. A wide chimney, with 
andirons, whereon pine logs are plentifully laid, ready for 
kindling, is on one side, a piano stands opposite, cosy 
rocking chairs, and other signs of a comfortable home life 
are scattered round the hearth ; a long table runs down 
the centre of the hall, which is generally used as a dining- 
room when the family is increased by guests who, like 
ourselves, find always a welcome at the ranche, and come 
not in " single spies, but in battalions." The laundry 
stands in a corner of the courtyard, opposite the gateway, 
and the dairy in a field beyond. We received a cordial 
welcome from the ladies of the family. A collection of 
pretty girls and fine, manly young fellows, the sons and 



2l6 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

daughters of the house, came out into the courtyard to 
meet us. It was a pleasant sight, that father and mother, 
still in the prime of life, with their unbroken circle of 
blooming girls and sturdy boys around them — children of 
the Old World taking root in the soil of the New. I 
found my host was more British than ever. So far from 
his interests and sympathies with the Old World languish- 
ing or lessening from his long sojourn in this far-away 
land, they were keener than ever ; he marches side by 
side with us in all social questions, and is more thoroughly 
conversant with political matters, both at home and 
abroad, than many who are in our midst. Papers, maga- 
zines, pamphlets find their way from the heart of London 
to the core of the Western world. We found the 
daughters of the house purely Enghsh in thought, tone, 
and feeling, all their aspirations rising towards the old 
land, and their longings turning thitherward, while the 
sons seemed as purely American in theirs. 

Behind the ranche, and, as it were, keeping guard over 
it, rises Gapilan Peak, the highest and loveliest of all that 
mountain range. It seemed so near to us that I proposed 
a morning scramble and luncheon on top, but I was 
speedily informed that it would take a long day, of pretty 
rough travelling too, to climb the rugged mountain sides, 
and would necessitate spending a night on the summit, 
from which, however, could be seen a most glorious sun- 
rise. This sounded romantic, but I had no desire to taste 
the doubtful delight. We occupied the principal guest 
chamber, which had no actual communication with the 
house, but opened on to a wide verandah, which led 



CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. 21/ 

down through a deliciously wild garden direct to the 
woods. As we lay in our beds at night we could hear 
the coyotes come howling down from the wilderness, but 
the deep bay of our good watch-dogs speedily chased 
them off the premises. We had no fear of tramps or 
stragglers, for we had gallant defenders near, with guns 
and rifles loaded. 

On Christmas Day there was a frost, and the ponds 
were covered with a coating of ice. They said we had 
brought an English Christmas into the midst of the sun- 
lands. Such a thing as frost and snow had not been 
known there for twenty years. A clear, cold, frosty air, 
blue skies, and a blazing sun roused us early in the morn- 
ing, and on descending to the breakfast-room we found 
pretty souvenirs of Aballone jewelry, peculiar to Califor- 
nia, beside our plates, and the Chinese servants had pre- 
sented the members of the family with some native toy, 
according to their custom. 

At dinner the large family circle was increased by the 
advent of some solitary friends and neighbours. We were 
merry and sad and glad together. We thought of those 
who were gone, but we talked of those who remained. 
Our host proposed " The Old Country." I think there 
was a tug at our hearts, and our voices were scarcely 
steady as we rose with one accord and accepted it. I 
presently whispered a name which was caught up and 
echoed from one end of the table to the other — " With 
love and greetings across the sea." Then somebody sug- 
gested that "Rule Britannia " would be appropriate for an 
after-dinner melody as w^e gathered round the blazing 

lO 



2l8 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS, 

pine fire. Forthwith that lady commenced ruling " the 
waves," and I don't think she ever performed that cere- 
mony with more true and loyal hearts around her. We 
were all feeling ridiculously patriotic. We grumble when 
we are at home, and are severe on the faults and failings 
of our Motherland ; we pick holes in her best coat, and 
find flaws in her finest policy. But when we are away, 
and thousands of miles of land and sea divide us from 
her, — well, she might beat us with her trident and we'd 
forgive her ! 

We passed a delightful time with this interesting family. 
We all had our own opinions, and strong ones too. We 
drove about the country, or roamed through the woods 
all day, and in the evening gathered round the fire (for it 
was cooler here than in the city), and discussed ourselves 
and our American cousins. We picked one another to 
pieces, and put ourselves together again, amid much fun 
and laughter, and a tolerable amount of fairness on both 
sides. 

We had often heard our host alluded to in the local 
papers as " the Big Bug of Salinas ; " a strange phrase, 
which sounded to us of the offensively facetious order, 
but it was not so held by the inhabitants of the place ; by 
them it is employed quite as a title of honour, and ap- 
plied to one whom all the townsfolk held in the highest 
esteem. It is no wonder that the people of Salinas paid 
this tribute of respect to our host, for he was the founder 
of their city, and it is entirely owing to his enterprise and 
judicious management that it has grown to be the impor- 
tant place it is. Twelve years ago the Salinas Valley was 



CHRISTMAS ON A CALIFORNIAN RANCHE. 219 

a vast uncultivated plain, with two wretched tumble-down 
Spanish villages — Natividad and Santa Rita, — both of the 
most miserable description, which are settled in one cor- 
ner of it. He chanced to be passing through this lovely- 
tract o£ country, where a winding river trailed its silver 
waters ; numbers of wagon trains and other traffic passed 
along this valley on the way to Monterey and other set- 
tlements on the coast, and he thought it would be an ad- 
mirable site for a halting-place. To think was to act. 
He bought an extensive tract of land, consisting of many- 
thousand acres, selected an appropriate spot, and staked 
out lots for streets, churches, public buildings, etc., and 
advertised them for sale in all the Californian and many- 
other papers. His venture met with entire success ; the 
lots were bought up and building commenced with great 
rapidity, and the place has now developed into ^ city of 
between three and four thousand inhabitants, with numer- 
ous aids to religion in the way of churches, a bank, a 
town hall, and even a prison, which was occupied on the 
occasion of our visit by a handsome horse-stealer and a 
predatory Chinaman. The former was stretched upon his 
straw pallet reading a recent copy of the Atlantic Monthly. 
The city of Salinas is in a most flourishing condition ; 
building is still going on, and as the wind blows fresh 
faces thitherward it promises to double its present num- 
bers before many years are past. The whole of the val- 
ley, as I have said before, is in a state of high cultivation. 
There are several flourishing farms and extensive fields 
of grain. Opposite our entrance gate is a cornfield more 
than two miles long. 



220 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

We soon exhausted the beauty of Salinas Valley, but 
could not so easily exhaust the hospitality of our friends, 
who resolved to escort us on a tour to Monterey, one of 
the oldest Spanish settlements along the coast, where there 
are still the remains of a most interesting mission built a 
century ago. We are to start in the morning, and we go 
out to take a last evening stroll, escorted by all the young 
folk of the family, one of whom, a young gentleman aged 
seven, proves an heroic acquisition. He marches in front 
of us, runs after the squirrels, chases the gophers into 
their holes, pelts the pigs out of our path, and at last com- 
pels an advancing corps of cattle to turn tail and run, 
while we take shelter from their crumpled horns behind 
a gatepost. 

The sun sinks rapidly behind the hills, and leaves the 
Western hemisphere aglow with golden light, with feath- 
ery plumes of crimson, isles of amber, and pale amethyst 
cloudlets floating therein, changing and amalgamating 
their gorgeous hues, till they form one brilliant cavalcade 
of coloured glory. Long after the sun has departed the 
skies retain their brighest blue ; slowly the trailing skirts 
of the twilight cover them, and we take a last look at the 
mountains shrouded in the purple mist peculiar to the 
Californian climate, which for the time gives them a 
mysterious airy appearance, as though they were growing 
in cloudland rather than on this solid earth of ours. In 
the glowing daylight this airy drapery is invisible ; it is 
only seen when the shades of evening begin to fall. 



CHAPTER XX. 



IN THE VALLEY OF CARMELO. 




Monterey — The Ruins of the Mission — The Spanish Inhabitants of 
the Old Town — The Moss Beach — The Lighthouse— The 
Pebbly Pescadero — Good-bye. 

E reach Monterey in the cool of the evening. 
A queer tumble-down Spanish town lying close 
along the sea-shore. One or two fishermen 
are trailing their nets on the face of the water, and some 
fishing-smacks, with their brown, patched sails, are an- 
chored in the bay, and are rocked so gently by the waves 
they seem to be coquetting with their own shadows. Not 
much more than a century ago a host of Spanish vessels 
sailed into this now lonely and deserted harbour, their 
colours flying, their decks crowded with soldiers, sailors, 
priests, and nuns. Here they landed in search of a good 
site wheron to found a mission for their priestly labours. 
They stationed themselves on an elevated point about 
two miles from the sea ; there the labour of love began. 
They built d, presidio for the soldiers to protect the fathers 
from the native Indians. Every man who had hands to 
work devoted himself to the cause, and laboured till the 
church and mission buildings were completed. All that 



222 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

part of the country was taken possession of in the name of 
the King of Spain, and the work of conversion began. The 
ceremony was performed with a blare of trumpets, beating 
of drums, and salvos of artillery, calling out an army of 
echoes from the surrounding hills and mountains. The 
poor Indians were at first dazed with the display of tawdry 
magnificence and frightened at the thundering sounds 
which shook the air and seemed to make the solid earth 
tremble beneath their feet ; but by degrees they ap- 
proached, and then learned that this wonderful expedition 
was organized expressly for their benefit. Peace in this 
world and glory in the next was freely promised them. The 
gates of Paradise were opened before them ; they had 
nothing to do but to walk in and take possession. Scores 
were converted every day ; they bowed down before the 
altar. The acolytes swung the incense, the fathers 
preached and chanted in an unknown tongue, the nuns, 
from behind their grated gallery, lifted their songs of 
adoration and praise, and the poor heathen souls were 
caught up in the great mystery and won to God. 

From Mexico and Spain settlers soon came flocking 
into the beautiful valley, establishing themselves upon the 
sea- shore, building dwellings, grazing cattle, and growing 
fruits and flowers, increasing and multiplying themselves 
and their houses till the city grew and, for a time, flour- 
ished in peace and plenty, carrying on a thriving trade 
not only with Spain and Mexico, but with the inhabitants 
along the coast. The descendants of the first settlers, to 
a great extent, still occupy the now half-deserted, dilapi- 
dated town. The mission church, presidio, and other 



IN THE VALLEY OF CARMELO. 223 

buildings appertaining thereto are on an elevated spot 
some two miles distant from the town overlooking the 
lovely and extensive Carmel Valley. 

Only a century ago the church was filled with priests 
and converts, the presidio with soldiers, their clanking 
arms and breastplates glittering in the sun ; vessels rode 
at anchor in the harbour, and crowds of Dutch and Span- 
ish traders, with their bales of merchandise, swarmed 
upon the silver-sanded beach below. Now all is gone, 
like painted shadows fading from the sunshine. 

The church, crowning the hilltop and dominating the 
landscape for miles round, is one of the most beautiful, 
picturesque, and perfect ruins upon the coast. Its exte- 
rior is complete, even to the rusty bell which still hangs 
in the belfry tower, and creaks with a ghostly clang when 
wind blows through ; and we are surprised to find so 
much of the decorative masonry still intact. Dilapidated 
saints and cherubs, with broken trumpets and mouldering 
wings, still hold their places, while all around is slowly 
but surely crumbling to decay ; and, though in places 
you may see the daylight streaming through the roof, 
you can still ramble through the nuns' gallery and 
look down upon the altar, where the broken font still 
clings to the wall. 

On the occasion of our visit, a small side chapel or 
vestry was decorated with ivy, evergreens, and paper 
flowers, and tin sconces, with the remains of guttering 
candles, were left upon the walls. It had been evidently 
used very lately — by the villagers, perhaps, for some fes- 
tive gathering. The extensive range of adobe buildings 



224 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

which surround the church and were occupied by the 
converts and day labourers, are still in a state of semi- 
preservation ; the roofs are gone, but the walls are still 
standing. The whole of these sacred possessions were 
enclosed, and entered then as now by a massive gateway 
at the foot of the southern slope. 

The town of Monterey is only interesting from its 
association with the past. It is dirty, it is dusty, it is 
utterly void of all modern improvements. Streets ! there 
are none to speak of, except, perhaps, a row of slovenly 
shops which have been run up by some demented genius 
the last few years. The old adobe houses — and they 
are all made of that species of sun-dried clay — straggle 
about in the most bewildering fashion ; it is much easier 
to lose your way than to find it. The people are all 
strongly characteristic of their Spanish origin ; they are a 
dark, swarthy, lazy-looking race, and scarcely seem to 
have energy enough to keep themselves awake. Their 
houses have no pretension to architecture of any kind ; 
there is no attempt at pretty cottage-building or rural 
decoration ; not even a creeping plant is trained to hide 
the bare walls ; they have low doorways — a tall man 
must stoop to enter them — and small, square windows set 
in the thick clay walls. I suppose the men do work 
sometimes, but I have seen them at all hours, shouldering 
the door-posts, smoking in sombre, majestic silence, while 
the wives sit on stools beside them, generally with bright- 
coloured handkerchiefs pinned across their breasts, huge 
gold hoops in their ears, and often thick bracelets on their 
arms. In her barbaric love of display the woman forms a 



IN THE VALLEY OF CARMELO.. 22$ 

picturesque and striking figure in the shadow of her 
majestic lord ; she is a piece of brilHant colouring, from 
the full, red lips, rich-hued complexion, to the sparkling 
black eyes which illuminate the whole. 

In the heart of the town there is a long, low range of 
deserted buildings formerly occupied by the military ; 
the windows are all broken, the worm-eaten doors hang, 
like helpless cripples, on their hinges, and only the ghostly 
echo of the wind goes wandering through the empty 
chambers. In all quarters of the town you may come 
upon houses with windows patched or broken and pad- 
locked doors, the owners having died or wandered away, 
and no one (but the rats) cares to take possession of bare 
walls. Nobody heeds them ; they are left to natural 
decay. We passed some lonely, barn-like dwellings, with 
curtained windows and large gardens behind, where we 
could see the orchard trees, and flowering shrubs, and 
white winter roses growing ; these were shrouded with 
almost monastic quietude. We go to the primitive 
Catholic Church on Sunday, and wonder where all the 
beautiful women dressed in their picturesque national 
costume have come from. They have a proud, haughty 
look upon their faces, and seem to resent our intrusion. 
These, we were told, are the aristocratic remains of the 
ancient dwellers in the city, who form a small exclusive 
society among themselves, and live in the secluded barn- 
like buildings above alluded to. Some are in the midst 
of the town ; some scattered on the outskirts. The music 
was good and the service reverently conducted. 

There are two or three old-established hotels, all of a 



226 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

more or less indifferent kind. We went to the best, which 
is of quite a second-rate character, but it serves well 
enough as a resting-place for passing tourists. The 
inhabitants are strictly conservative — not with the true 
spirit of conservatism, which retains the best and improves 
or lops off what is bad in its constitution, but they carry 
out the conservatism of ignorance ; they will not advance 
with the age ; " what was good enough for their fore- 
fathers," they argue, " is good enough for them ; as they 
were in the old days, so they are now ; they plod along 
in the old groove, and keep to their old customs, and 
nurse their old superstitions with undeviating blind per- 
sistency. Why should they trouble about improving ? " 

There is not a drop of water fit to drink in the whole 
city. The bright sparkling springs may be bubbling 
beneath their feet, but they will not dig for it. The 
tourist must drink aerated water, lager beer, or a poison- 
ous decoction called wine. Even the visitors have hither- 
to been content with the meagre accommodation afforded 
them. The United States, which, as a rule, is quick to 
perceive and put its progressive ideas in motion, seems to 
have forgotten Monterey and left it, so far, to govern 
itself. But things are changing now. People are awaken- 
ing to a sense of the importance of Monterey, which might, 
and most probably will, become one of the most delight- 
ful seaside resorts in the State ; it has every requisite to 
make it most attractive. It has excellent facilities for 
bathing, a magnificent sea view, and the walks and drives 
about the surrounding country are beautiful in the 
extreme ; there are wooded bosky dells, luxuriant green 



IN THE VALLEY OF CARMELO. 22/ 

valleys, and undulating hills on every side, and it is in 
close proximity to points of great interest ; the roads are 
pleasant and easy to drive along ; in fact, the only want 
at Monterey is accommodation for visitors, and that want 
is being rapidly supplied. A monster hotel of quaint 
Swiss architecture is in course of erection within a short 
distance of the town ; it is partially surrounded by a wood 
of scented pine and grand old forest trees, and a wide, 
magnificent sea view stretches before it ; its appointments 
are to be of the most luxurious description ; hundreds of 
busy workmen are employed upon it, and a promise is 
held out that it will be opened for this summer season.* 

One clear, cool morning we pack a luncheon basket 
and start for a " cruise on wheels." We drive first past 
the old mission buildings to the Moss Beach, lying along 
the shores of the Pacific Ocean, and so called from the 
peculiar mossy character and beauty of the seaweed it 
flings so liberally along the pure, white sand, for the 
beach here is like powdered snow, and stretches far into 
the wild inland, its still, billowy waves sparkling like 
diamonds in the sunshine. A few miles farther on, and 
after a pleasant drive through pretty home scenery, we 
pass a Chinese fishing village, it being a mere collection 
of miserable hovels, and, as an Indian decorates his 
wigwam with scalps, these are hung inside and out with 
rows of dried and drying bodies of fish. The beach is 
covered with their bony skeletons and fishy remains in 
different stages of decomposition, and the whole air is 

* Since these lines were written the Hotel Del Monte has been 
completed and is now opened. 



228 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

redolent with an *' ancient and fish-like smell." We are 
satisfied with an outside view, and have no desire to 
explore, but drive on as fast as we can till we reach the 
"pebbly beach of Pescadero," which is quite a celebrated 
spot. People come from miles round to visit it, and 
spend many hours in hunting for moss agates ; for these, 
and many others of a beautiful and rare description, may 
be found in great numbers there. But apart from the 
chance of finding these treasures, the pebbly beach is in 
itself a great attraction for its rarity, as all along that 
portion of the coast there is only a sandy shore. 

Thence we drive on to the lighthouse, which stands on 
a rocky eminence jutting out into the sea. We cHmbed 
the narrow stairway to the top, and enjoyed an extensive 
panoramic view of the wild sea and wilder land surround- 
ing. A lonely, desolate place it was, and to some folk 
would be maddening in its monotonous dreariness, with 
the waves for ever beating round its rocky base, varied 
only by the screech of the sea-birds or howling of the 
wandering wind. Yet even in this bleak spot the keeper 
has coaxed flowers into growing, and hollyhocks, scarlet 
geraniums, dahlias, and other hardy plants are blooming 
round the lonely dwelling. 

We are to take our lunch at Cypress Point, which we 
reach about three o'clock in the afternoon. This, inter- 
esting and romantic spot which we had selected for our 
temporary festivity is an extensive grove, a miniature for- 
est of cypress trees, covering and growing to the very 
verge of a lofty cliff which rises about two hundred feet 
perpendicularly from the sea. Their sombre forms, still 



IN THE VALLEY OF CARMELO. 229 

and motionless, though a stiff breeze is blowing, turn 
oceanwards like dark-plumed, dusky sentinels keeping 
watch and ward over the rock-bound land. How many 
centuries have they stood there ? Their age is beyond 
our ken. We feel the strange fascination of this gloomy 
spot. The ancient trees have grown into strange, fantas- 
tic forms. Some He prone upon the ground, gnarled and 
twisted as though they had wrestled in their death-agony 
ages ago, and left their skeletons bleaching in the sun- 
shine, for like the whitening bones of a dead man they 
crumble at the touch. Some have twined their stiff 
branches inextricably together, apparently engaged in an 
everlasting wrestling match. Here, like a half-clothed 
wizard, stands a skeleton tree with withered arms out- 
stretched, and crooked fingers pointing menacingly at its 
invisible destroyer. On every side the weird strange 
forms strike the imagination, and though the sea is laugh- 
ing and sparkling in the sun, and the soft wind fanning us 
with its cool, invigorating breath, the grim, silent congre- 
gation gives us an uncanny feeling, though we gather 
under their shade and eat, drink, and are merry. We 
shiver as we think what a spectral scene this cypress g'-ove 
must be in the moonlight. 

We drive through the beautiful Carmel Valley, with its 
wealth of picturesque beauty spread in rich luxuriance 
for miles round us. Wood and water, undulating hills 
and grassy slopes succeed each other, making a natural 
panorama, as we drive slowly on, taking in the dainty 
scene with unwearying eyes. Occasionally we passed a 
lonely farmhouse in the valley, or a chicken ranche half 



230 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

hidden among the trees on the hillside. These, we were 
told, are many of them occupied by English gentlemen of 
culture and education. Indeed, not only in this part of 
the country, but all over California and in Colorado, in 
corners farthest away from the sight and sound of their 
fellow-men, we find our countrymen have settled down as 
tillers of the land and cultivators of the soil. We are 
sometimes disposed to wonder what has driven them to 
these far corners of the earth. With some, perhaps, a love 
of adventure ; a desire to form a part of the electric life 
of a new land. One gentleman informed us that he had 
been plucked at college ; another had failed in a public 
examination. They had generally been crowded out of 
the Old World by failure of one kind or another, and 
wandered away to the New, where there is room for men 
to build up another life, and every faciHty for striking out 
" into fresh fields and pastures new." They appear pros- 
perous, happy, and contented, but one and all seem to 
encourage a desire to return to the old land " when the 
children have grown up." 

Our pleasant visit came to an end. I don't think any 
of us cared to say " good-bye," but we went through the 
ceremony with dignified calm. The wonder rose in our 
hearts, though it never reached our lips, '^ shall we ever 
stand face to face in this world again ? " " Perhaps," 
whispers hope softly. We shake hands. " Good-bye," 
*' Good-bye." With a shriek and a whistle our train 
steams onward. We carry away with us, and I hope 
leave behind, many pleasant memories of our Christmas 
in California. 



CHAPTER XXI. 



ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 

New Year's Visits — The Gentleman's Day — Local Attractions — 
Berkeley College — Saucelito — In Arcadia — Among the Woods and 
Flowers — A Fairy Festival. 




HE streets of San Francisco are empty — that is, 
empty as regards the female population. Not a 
petticoat is to be seen ; Kearney is deserted, 
and masculine humanity is left in full possession of Cali- 
fornia and Montgomery. Rank, beauty, and fashion is 
" receiving " to-day. Buggies, sulkies, rockaways, and 
every conceivable kind of vehicle, filled with gentlemen 
in evening costumes, are dashing frantically along the 
streets ; hospitable doors are open, and a constant stream 
of the nobler sex flows in and out ; they come and go in 
such quick succession it seems as though they were shot 
out of a catapult one moment and shot back the next. It 
is a sort of " go-as-you-please " visiting race, and he who 
pays most calls between midday and midnight rises to an 
imaginary place of honour. The ist of Jamlary is essen- 
tially the " gentleman's day." Every lady — that is, every- 
body who is anybody, and many who are "nobodies," who 
hold neutral ground, and cling, like a ragged fringe, to 

the skirts of society — stays at home to receive New Year's 

231 



232 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

calls and friendly greetings from her gentleman friends. 
The advent of a lady on this occasion would be consid- 
ered an outrage of all propriety. Sometimes ladies unite, 
two or three together, and hold their mutual receptions 
under one roof, generally choosing the most important and 
most central position, so as to simplify as much as possible 
the labours of their admirers. Their decision is generally 
announced to the world in this fashion : " The lovely 
Miss A. and the accomplished Miss B. will assist Mrs. So- 
and-so in receiving to-day." Although the sun is shining 
brilliantly without, the windows are closed, the gas lighted, 
the rooms beautifully decorated with choice flowers, and 
the ladies descend in their full accoutrement of charms 
and enter into this artificial night to receive the greetings 
of their several admirers. This custom obtains in all the 
great cities of America, but in San Francisco it is held in 
the fullest splendour and maintained with the greatest 
tenacity. The next day the press teems with a thrilling 
account of the day's proceedings. Whole columns of the 
Chronicle are devoted to details of the ladies' dresses ; the 
number of their visitors are duly chronicled, and woe be 
to the delinquent he who has failed in his duty ; the rest 
— well, I fancy there is a good deal of uncharitableness 
working behind a masked battery of smiles in the exchange 
of female confidences on the next day's meeting. 

The time flies so fast in this beautiful, hospitable land 
that we are anxious to make the most of it, and, having 
fulfilled our engagements in the city, we decided to pay 
flying visits to some of the lovely resorts lying along the 
banks of the bay, which, as I have said before, is large 



ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 233 

enough for all the navies of the world to play hide-and- 
seek in. Oakland, perhaps, takes precedence, it being the 
most extensive, the most important, and certainly among 
the loveliest of these rural suburbs. It has a railway of 
its own dashing through the crowded public thoroughfares 
from one end of the town to the other, its engine bell 
cling-clanging, warning everybody out of the way as it 
charges onward. There are plenty of handsome shops, 
some very fine churches, banks, and a free mercantile 
library, presided over by an accomplished and efficient 
lady librarian, for female intellect is held at a higher 
premium, and is utilized to a greater extent in the New 
World than in the Old. Branching off from the populous 
highway are picturesque grassy streets, with quaint or 
fanciful dwellings on either side, all detached and sur- 
rounded by blooming gardens, stretching away on all 
sides, till the busy, bright little town, with a series of 
coquettish manoeuvres, touches the green slopes of Berke- 
ley, the seat of learning, the fount of knowledge, whence 
the youth of California draw their mental sustenance. 
There stands Berkeley College, presided over by Professor 
John Le Conte, one of the most eminent classical scholars 
of the day, of European reputation. The professors are 
all chosen from the foremost rank of whatever branch of 
study they adopt. The college is formed upon the princi- 
ples of similar institutions in England, and, if they take 
proper advantage of the benefits to be acquired there, the 
Californian youth should be second to none. The build- 
ing itself is of handsome red brick, massive and simple in 
its architecture. It lies at the base of the foothills, sur- 



234 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

rounded by a luxurious growth of green, and it forms a 
principal feature in the landscape for miles round. Oak- 
land and Berkeley seem to run hand in hand till they are 
lost and buried in the green hillsides. Many of the citi- 
zens of San Francisco make their homes in those attrac- 
tive suburbs, which lie about eight miles across the bay. 
Magnificent ferry-boats, decorated with mirrors, carving, 
and gilding, with luxurious lounges and velvet carpets, ply 
to and fro every half-hour during the day. Alameda, St. 
Quentin, and many other sylvan retreats are settled down 
in cosy nooks scattered round the bay, all being equally 
attractive and easy of access. 

One bright February morning, when the bay is as 
smooth as glass, and a score or two of vessels with sails 
all set to catch what little breeze is stirring are floating 
like white birds on the face of the water, and the sky 
wears its Californian livery of intense blue, we start "to 
spend a long day at Saucelito, which lies in quite an op- 
posite direction across the bay. We watch the steep 
streets of the city (the people passing to and fro, the ve- 
hicles crawling up and down are dwarfed to the size of 
dolls and toy carriages) recede from our view. We pass 
by " the silent guns of Alcatras ; " they are muzzled, 
masked, and silent now, like lions couchant and asleep, 
but should danger threaten that city of the sunland they 
would rouse up and roar as loudly as in days gone by. 
Small green islets, some sparsely inhabited, others the 
solitary home of the waterfowl, are scattered round the 
fortified island. These, with the richly wooded hills sur- 
rounding this part of the bay give a picturesque beauty 



ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 235 

to the scene. The briny breeze, laden with three thou- 
sand miles of iodine, sweeps through the Golden Gate, and 
as we breathe this health-giving air our pulse quickens 
and we feel we are taking a lease of a new life, and as 
though lassitude of limb or weariness of heart could afflict 
us never any more. There is a glorious sunshine over- 
head, and we look out through the Golden Gate at the 
silvery Pacific stretching away and lying like a bar across 
the distant sky, while behind us a chain of soft green and 
purple hills embrace the peaceful Bay. The fresh invig- 
orating wind sets our cheeks aglow, and our spirits seem 
to rise on invisible wings. We feel it is a glorious thing 
to live. Life is worth the living while there are such days 
and hours to enjoy, and our hearts sing their voiceless 
song of thanksgiving, which only God can hear. 

The boat slackens speed. We have been so occupied 
by the extensive land and sea views that we have failed to 
cast our eyes towards the sheltered nook we are now fast 
approaching. We seem to have come suddenly upon a 
delicious bit of Italian scenery transplanted to this far 
corner of the Western World. The richly wooded land 
rises before us, clothed in its glory of luxuriant green. A 
few tiny cottages are strewn along the bay shore, and we 
catch glimmerings of white-faced, red-tiled dwellings, hid- 
den here and there among the trees on the sloping hill- 
sides. Two or three drowsy officials are lounging about 
the landing-stage, and a shabby-looking vehicle, with a 
skeleton steed, stands baking in the hot sun, waiting for 
passengers. But there is no one else about, no sign of 
humanity abroad, everything is quiet and peaceful every- 



236 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

where ; it seems as though nature had taken all her living 
children in her arms and lulled them to sleep in the sun- 
shine. 

We climb into the vehicle aforesaid, and begin slowly 
ascending the undulating hillside. It is a lovely, winding 
road, with luxuriant trees, flowering shrubs, and sweet- 
smelling wild flowers sloping away from us on the one 
side, and climbing up the gradual ascent on the other. 
The brisk breeze which had swept so keen and invigorat- 
ing through the Golden Gate dies away here into a mur- 
muring soft and low, making music in the tall tree-tops, 
stirring the leafy branches, and coquetting with the wealth 
of wild roses. Here and there we come upon some 
quaint, fanciful dwelling peeping out from a bower of 
green, the gardens running out in unconfined loveliness, 
as though they were proud to show their blooming pro- 
geny to the passing world outside. 

There is no such thing in America as hedging and wall- 
ing in private grounds for the solitary gratification of the 
owner only. Everything is liberally and lavishly thrown 
open for all the world to see, and in so much, the poorest 
tramp trudging along the road, or the poorest labourer in 
the field, shares his more fortunate neighbour's wealth, 
and may enjoy the luxury of the rich man's pleasure-gar- 
dens, even as the rich man shares with him the sunshine 
God freely gives to all. Although, according to the divis- 
ion cf time, it is early spring, it might be blooming sum- 
mer-time, for here it is the very carnival of flowers ; they 
are everywhere growing in such glorious profusion, too. 
The dainty plants, such as geraniums, fuchsias, myrtles, 



ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 237 

roses, etc., which we are accustomed to see flowering in 
pots or perhaps growing two or three feet from the ground, 
here expand into monstrous bushes or tall graceful trees. 
We have stood under a geranium tree and looked up, 
through its wealth of scarlet blossoms, at the blue sky be- 
yond. Camellias, orchids, and other delicate plants and 
shrubs bloom out in the open air, laden with a gorgeous 
display of dainty flowers. We counted one hundred and 
ten waxen white camellias on one tree alone, and were lost 
in admiration of the California Acacia, which flung out 
its golden banners on every side, its soft fluffy blossoms, 
like plumes of fairy feathers, hiding every trace of the 
green leaves which gave them such fostering shelter only 
a few weeks ago. We found our way slowly through this 
romantic Arcadian scenery ; there were no wanderers, no 
tourists, no tramps astir ; the narrow winding road was 
solitary enough, except for once or twice, when we over- 
took a batch of women, in short petticoats and sun-bon- 
nets, trotting along singing, in not unmusical voices, to 
beguile the way. Our skeleton steed, jingling his bells as 
though to advertise to the world how much work he was 
doing, suddenly pulled up at the foot of a rugged green 
bank, broken with rustic steps, leading up to a kind of 
" Glen Eyrie " or eagle's nest, half hidden in the rugged 
hillside. This was our destination ; we climbed up the 
rough-hewn steps and found ourselves at the entrance- 
gate of the pretty white cottage with a verandah literally 
covered with creeping plants running along in front 
of it. 

Our hostess came out to greet us — a sweet, grave-look- 



238 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ing woman, whose smiling eyes had a shade of something 
in them, as though, in some invisible part of her nature, 
there was 

' ' A feeling of sadness and longing 
That is not akin to pain ; 
Which resembles sorrow only 
As the mist resembles rain." 

She formed a pretty picture, standing there beneath 
her trailing vines to welcome us wanderers from the Old 
World. We followed her into a long, low-roofed, com- 
fortable room, with chairs and lounges covered with the 
skins of animals ; cases of rare birds, and butterflies, and 
natural curiosities of all descriptions were arranged on all 
sides ; gatherings of great rarity from the bowels of the 
earth, realms of the air, and the depths of the sea, spoils 
from the very heart of nature were arranged in every 
nook and corner. Both within and without the house 
everything was quaint, picturesque, and suggestive of Old 
World fancies. 

Our hostess was one of those women to whom Pope 
alludes as 

"Mistress of herself though china fall." 

It appears we had mistaken our day. We should have 
put in an appearance the day before, when all preparations 
had been made for our entertainment. Now the lady was 
alone, absolutely alone in the house. Her Chinese ser- 
vants (they all employ Chinamen here) had gone to par- 
ticipate in some national festivity, and the sudden irrup- 



ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 239 

tion of half a dozen unexpected guests must have been 

trying to the nerves of our solitary hostess. We ought to 

have grovelled in the dust, but didn't. She was equal to 

the occasion, and, in a genial, pleasant way, made us feel 

quite at home — as though, indeed, we could not have 

come at a better season. We all enjoyed the idea of a 

general picnic, improvised on the spot, and, amid much 

! chatter, laughter, and the mildest of mild jokes, there was 

' a stampede towards the larder ; but the idle drones and 

(1 butterflies of the party (whose offers of assistance in the 

I culinary department were wisely declined) went wander- 

; ing about the wilderness of a garden and strayed out into 

I the sweet-scented woods beyond, looking down through 

I the tangled branches upon the shining bay below. A 

I 

1 perfect paradise this Saucelito seemed to us, made up of 

I flowers, and peace, and sunshine ; a fitting birthplace for 
romance ; the cradle of poetry, where fine thoughts are 
nursed till they burst out into full-fledged phrases, and fly 
abroad, and stir the soul of the world with their wise 
philosophy or tender song. Presently the melancholy 
voice of the horn came moaning through the woods, call- 
ing us to return. We knew what that meant, and were 
not slow in obeying the summons, taking with us such 
healthy appetites as would have digested the sole of an 
old shoe if dressed to taste. 

We found our way into the kitchen, where the feast 
was spread. It was not a commonplace kitchen, where 
the whole culinary battery is unmasked and its mysteries 
are carried on before your very eyes, and clatter of pans 
and frizzle and frying take away your appetite without 



240 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

opposition on your part. This was a poetical kitchen, ^ 
with no signs of prose about it ; coppers bright as mirrors 
reflected you from the walls, multiplied you by scores, till j 
the room seemed full of your shadows. Quaint old china 
decorated t]ie dressers ; bunches of the beautiful pampas 
grass and vases of wild flowers were ranged upon the 
shelves. The most useful articles were of an ornamental 
character. Standing in one corner was a shining black, 
quaintly designed stove, with bright brass knobs and 
decorated scrolls, polished to the highest point of poHsh- 
ing, like a black prince with "gilded honours thick upon 
him." His fiery eye was closed ; he had done his work 
and was at rest. From the bowels of this gnome had 
been conjured the dainty repast which awaited our attack. 
A table spread with fine linen, rare glass, and quaint old 
china, such as would have made a collector's mouth 
water, was ranged along one side of the room. As for 
the repast, it was a recherche thing, that might have 
tickled the palate of an epicure. There were broiled 
chickens, crisp salad, mayonaise, and such rich, luscious 
fruit and cream, with lovely flowers and trailing smilax 
nestled among them. The very wine, as it was poured 
out into the Venetian vine-stemmed glasses, seemed to 
bubble and sparkle and cream over, as though it quite 
enjoyed being drank out of such rare prettiness. We 
kept the door which led into the garden wide open. The 
tall calla Hlies bent their fair heads, and the saucy red 
roses, blushing at their own beauty, sent their perfumed 
breath wandering towards us, fluttering their tender leaves 
as though to frighten away the droning bees, who would 



ON THE BANKS OF THE BAY. 24 1 

rifle their sweets before our eyes. A whole squadron of 
familiar shrubs and flowers were gathered thickly round 
them, and they shook out their rustling leaves, nodded 
their fragile heads, and stared in at us with their white 
and violet eyes. We stared back and thought how lovely 
and refreshing it all was. 

Our day in this modern Arcadia passed quickly, too 
quickly ; we would fain have put on the drag and kept it 
for awhile. The purple mist began to fall over the 
mountain-sides as we started on our way homeward 
through a beautiful wide cailon, fringed with graceful 
ferns and tall stately trees, screening from our sight the 
light of the setting sun ; a poor little wandering stream 
crept in and out among the broken boulders, as though it 
was tired and wanted to rest som.ewhere, and was trying 
to find its way to the great sea ; once absorbed in the 
everlasting waters there would be peace, or it might 
chance to filter its way down to the hearts of the dead 
men who lie there shrouded in weeds waiting for eternity. 
We were late in reaching the boat, for we had been 
tempted to linger by the way ; the bell was ringing and 
we had scarcely stepped on board the boat, when the 
engine gave a great satisfactory snort, swung round and 
started. 

The sun had already sunk behind the hills, and the 
shades of twilight were rapidly closing round us, but the 
red clouds were still floating in the west, and ragged 
banners and broken bars of gold still streamed through 
the darkening skies. It was quite dark when we reached 
San Francisco ; we saw the lights in her steep streets, and 



242 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

the fiery eye of the dummy dashing up and down, and the 
red and white car Hghts flashing hither and thither like 
fireflies ; tru^y she looked like a queen gorgeously arrayed, 
flashing her diamonds of living light in the face of the 
sombre night. 





CHAPTER XXII. 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 



Pleasant Retreats — Californian Trees — Canon and Forest Scenery — 
Duncan Mills — A Stormy Evening — The Redwoods — Farewell to 
the "Golden City." 




HERE is so much that is beautiful, and of a 
most varied kind of beauty, from the magnifi- 
cent and sublime to the pretty and picturesque, 
all along the wonderful Pacific Coast, and reaching inland 
to rivers and mountains, you might spend many months 
there and not have time to exhaust, nor even to thoroughly 
enjoy them, all, but to those whose time is limited it is 
difiicult to know what to do with it ; but there are some 
places which must be visited, some things which must be 
seen. There are the orange groves of Los Angeles, where 
you wander for miles through forests of golden fruit, which, 
in this month of February, have just reached perfection, 
and are ready for the gathering. Men, women, and chil- 
dren are busy at their work, piling the dainty fruit in 
bushel baskets, with such delicate handling that not a 
bruise shall fleck the smooth gold skin, while the air is 
literally laden with the pungent perfume. Some of the 
fruit grows to an immense size, as large as melons, but 

243 



244 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

what they gain in size they lose in flavour ; in fact, it is 
so with the generality of Californian fruits, which are mag- 
nificent to look at, both as to size, form, and colour, but 
they seem to have outgrown their strength and weakened 
their flavour, for it is very inferior to that of the same kind 
of fruit which is grown in the Eastern States. Of course 
there are exceptions, but I refer to the rule. 

San Joaquin and San Jose are the most wonderfully 
prolific wheat-growing countries, perhaps, in the world. 
The grain grows so tall, so heavy and full, that the tas- 
selled ears droop and seem toppling over from their own 
weight. These miles of fair fruitful lands lay rolling out 
from the foot of the- mountains, catching every gleam of 
sunshine, absorbing every breeze that blows. Thriving 
farms are scattered throughout these valleys ; on all sides 
there are vineyards, grain fields, orchards, and extensive 
cattle ranches ; signs of thrift and prosperity are evident 
everywhere. It is very pleasant to pass through these 
highly cultivated lands, where civilization has left her 
mark in such unmistakable characters ; but Nature in her 
wilder stages, amid her kingly rivers, her lakes, her unap- 
proachable mountains and untrodden forests, is more 
sublimely impressive. 

We were anxious to visit Yosemite Valley and the Mari- 
posa Grove of big trees, but that was impossible, the valley 
being still snowed up, and the roads leading thereto rough 
and almost impassable. In order to be thoroughly enjoya- 
ble a pleasure excursion to the Yosemite Valley should 
be taken from early June until late October ; during 
these months the magnificent scenery of this wonderful 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 245 

valley is seen in the highest perfection. Of course there 
are many adventurous spirits who make the tour at. all 
seasons of the year, and force their way into the valley 
when it is clothed with icicles and crowned with snow. 
As we must, perforce, miss the Yosemite for this year at 
least, we decide on a visit to the Redwood Forest in 
Sonoma County. Once more we cross the bay, pass on the 
other side of Alcatraz, and thread our way through the 
green islets surrounding it till we are landed at St. Quen- 
tin ; thence we take our tickets for Duncan Mills — the rail- 
way station is close to the landing stage. It is a narrow- 
gauge line ; the carriages or cars are long and narrow ; we 
can only sit three abreast. It looks like a train of tiny 
toy carriages, but our bright little engine is up to its work, 
and carries us on in a swift, spirited way, as though it was 
taking a holiday on its own account, not at all on ours. 
It looks like a serpent winding its way through a paradise 
of luxuriant green. We run alongside of Tomales Bay, nay, 
run into it, and cross its long arms more than once. Scores 
of wild ducks and geese are skimming along the face of 
the water. On one side of the bay is a range of low-lying 
hills, while our little train is puffing along on the other close 
under the shadow of massive gray rocks, with skeleton 
trees and stumpy bushes growing out of their broken sides. 
We pass the pretty fishing village of Tomales, and some 
few queer-looking hovels, on the edge of the bay, inhab- 
ited by Indians, for the squaws and little brown children 
are grouped under the eaves mending nets or making wil- 
low-baskets. We soon leave the bay behind us, and pass 
by picturesque villages nestling peacefully among the 



246 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

foothills, and here and there a half- ruined deserted dwell- 
ing at the mouth of a deep canon, which leads hundreds 
of miles away into the wilds where the brown bear feels 
safe from the hunter and the young wolves bay the moon 
at night. We cross deep ravines upon narrow trellis-work 
which would have made us shudder in the old days. 
Presently we find ourselves running along the base of 
thickly wooded hills, with their wealth of strangely beau- 
tiful trees, which were new to our eyes. Here are a 
group of Madrono trees, with their orange-coloured bark, 
sometimes deepening to crimson, but always shining and 
smooth as polished ivory, their red veins running like 
graceful lacework through their leaves of tender green. 
These lovely trees will flourish nowhere but in their native 
woods. All known methods have been tried to raise them 
in ornamental grounds, but they obstinately refuse 10 take 
root ; in spite of the tenderest care they droop and die. 
Then comes the Manzanita, with its pale-green leaves and 
delicate pink blossoms, drooping in bunches so close to 
us we could reach out our hands and pluck them as we 
pass. We are going now at only the rate of ten miles an 
hour, and the conductor occasionally gets off the train 
and runs alongside, gathering flowers or specimen leaves 
for us till we are overladen. Higher up the hillsides 
stand whole families of ash and popular, looking as fresh 
and green as th.e hand of spring could paint them. Here, 
grim and hoary, rise a company of live oaks, their ragged 
mossy robes scarce covering their long straggling limbs, 
but hanging all over them like a jagged fringe or gray 
beard matted and falling from its bald head, twisting and 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 247 

writhing round it as though to strangle the Uttle Ufe that 
lingered in its gnarled and knotted trunk. The scene 
changes, and, glancing across on the other side of the bed 
of the Russian River, we see the fir and pine trees grow- 
ing in dense dark masses, with here and there a clump of 
golden trees, like yellow islands in a sombre sea of green. 
Presently we reach the forest, drive into it and through it 
for many miles ; the dark trees, grown so straight and tall 
and strong in their native solitudes, close round us on 
every side. Looking upward we can scarcely see the sky, 
and the sun tries hard to fight its way down through the 
branches, but only succeeds in sending a bright lance 
here and there to smite the ground we are rolling over. 
Then the forest on one side at least, falls back and climbs 
the sloping hills on our left. On our right lies the Russian 
River, which has followed us all along, winding its way 
through the dense forest, playing hide-and-seek with the 
sun ; sometimes with silent, secret persistency forcing its 
way through broken boulders and other natural impedi- 
ments which hinder its progress ; then, dividing its forces, 
creeping stealthily through narrow crevices till it unites 
again with double strength, and storms its way onward 
till it reaches a low-lying rocky ledge, and sweeps over 
with a thunderous roar and falls into its bed below. It is 
all right now, and its swirling waters roll on, leaping and 
laughing in the sunshine, on their smooth and pleasant 
journey towards the sea. Here and there we pass a 
wooden house lying upon its side in the bed of the river. 
Some of these capsized cottages are entire, as though they 
had merely toppled over ; some are dilapidated and 



248 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

broken like match-boxes. We wonder how they got 
there, and are told that a few months ago the river rose 
fifty-four feet, overflowing its banks, and, rushing in its 
mad, headlong course through the country, swept all 
before it, leaving the debris where it still remained, some 
lodging on the banks and some lying in the bed of the 
river. The wreckage of homes and lands is strewn for 
miles along the river's course. We had but one fellow- 
passenger through all this journey, and he was shrouded 
in self-complacency and a linen-duster. He sat with his 
hat pulled over his eyes, and his nose buried in a book ; 
he never once looked out on the grand scenery we were 
passing through ; but that was Nature's book, perhaps he 
couldn't understand the language. He had been a can- 
didate for Congress, we were told, and failed ; if he had 
been a candidate for Napa Asylum, I think he'd have 
got it. 

Duncan Mills is the terminus ; the train goes no far- 
ther ; it lies in the very heart of the forest. It is a mere 
station ; it cannot by any stretch of fancy be called a 
village. It consists of one handsome residence, the home 
of Mr. Duncan, the owner of the great lumber mill, 
whence the station takes it name. The wood, cut down 
some miles away, where they are clearing the ground, is 
floated down the Russian River to its destination here. 
There are also some half-dozen cottages for the lumber- 
men, a livery stable, where excellent horses and carriages 
may be had for excursions in the surrounding country. 
Of course wherever a train stops there must be a hotel ; 
here is one, a pretty rural-looking place, two storeys high, 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 249 

with a verandah running all round it, externally most 
pleasant to look at, and the interior arrangements render 
it a most delightful place for a temporary residence. In 
summer it is crowded with tourists, who are sometimes 
so charmed with the picturesqueness of the place as to 
settle there for many weeks, and season after season visit 
it again. Its surroundings are lovely and romantic in the 
extreme, mountain, river, and forest scenery lying close 
round you. It was the off season, the tourists had not 
yet begun to arrive, consequently we had this charming 
primitive hotel all to ourselves ; there were no chamber- 
maids, no Chinamen. 

" We arrange things on a different plan when the real 
season begins," said our hostess, a pleasant-mannered, 
sensible-looking woman. ''We have plenty of waiters 
and that kind of thing, but till then my daughter and I 
manage the work between us." 

We were glad to have arrived at a season when there 
were no " waiters or that sort of thing ; " it was pleasanter 
to be waited upon by our landlady and her charming 
young daughter than a pig-tailed " Chinee " or the super- 
cilious white, who looks as though he was doing you a 
favour every time he hands you your soup. A violent 
storm arose on the evening of our arrival. There was a 
kind of haze over the sky, and the sun set with a heavy 
mist circling round it. W^e looked out and watched the 
gathering shades of evening creep down the sable-skirted 
pine forest, and were struck by the intense silence ; the 
invisible insect world seemed suddenly to have sunk to 

rest ; there was not a sound on the earth nor a tremulous 
II* 



250 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

motion in the air. A black darkness by degrees over- 
spread the heavens, and big raindrops began to fall faster 
and faster, splashing on the verandah outside. The wind, 
from a low sullen murmur, swelled to a perfect gale ; we 
heard it sweeping down the defiles and hurrying along 
the hillsides, shrieking like a company of fiends, surging 
round and battling with the big trees till they groaned 
and reeled and shivered beneath the assaults of its fierce, 
strong breath. The rain increased to a perfect avalanche 
of water, as though it would drown us and send us float- 
ing down the Russian River. A dimly lighted room in a 
strange hotel was not a comfortable location for a stormy 
night. Our landlady invited us into the family sitting-room, 
where there was a big blazing wood fire ; we drew our 
chairs round it and sat rocking in a lazy, listless way, listen- 
ing to the storm without and enjoying the comfortable 
scene within. The mistress of the house sat sewing by the 
light of a softly shaded lamp, while her daughter was busily 
engaged arranging some dried ferns and flowers. Pres- 
ently the door opened, and a tall brown-bearded man, a 
perfect type of the strong stout-hearted frontiersman, w^ith 
top-boots, frieze coat, and leather breeches, strode into 
the room. He glanced at us with a pair of sharp bright 

eyes. Mrs. W , with a half-introductory smile, said, 

" Mr. G , our express agent ; he lives here all the 

year round." He drew his chair to the fire, "hoped he 
didn't intrude." He apologized for his presence, we apol- 
ogized for ours, and in the course of a few minutes found 
ourselves engaged in an interesting conversation. They 
knew we had come from England, and were deeply inter- 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 25 1 

ested in all concerning it. We would rather have gath- 
ered information of this wild Western world, teeming as 
it is with new interests, new life ; but their thoughts were 
directed to the grave Old World across the sea. Their 
lives were saturated, filled to overflowing, with the adven- 
turous, restless spirit that permeates their beautiful land ; 
they seemed to enjoy the distant contemplation of the 
settled dignity and steadfast institutions of the mother 
country. They talked of the political aspect of to-day 
contrasted with that of the past, and argued that one had 
grown out of the other. In the course of conversation 
there were allusions to the repeal of the corn laws, the 
passing of the Reform Bill, and such bygone matters, 
with all of which they were perfectly conversant. They 
discussed Lord Palmerston's foreign policy as contrasted 
with that of the present, and were strong upon the minis- 
terial difficulties of to-day, insisting that the then Con- 
servative Government would go out, having made so many 
and such disastrous mistakes, and the parliamentary rib- 
bons must fall into Mr. Gladstone's hands. They watch 
our political movements at home with as much interest as 
their own elections. We are not petticoat politicians, and 
occasionally found ourselves floundering out of our 
depths ; it is as much as we can do to swim on the surface 
of the smoothest political waters, and were not sorry when 
politics went down and literature came up. They were 
familiar, the handsome express agent especially so, with 
our old dramatists and popular prose writers, and dis- 
cussed their works with a propriety of expression, appre- 
ciation of subject, and judicious criticism that one could 



2 52 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

scarcely expect to find in these latitudes. There was a 
strength and originality in his thoughts and expressions, 
which we seldom find in what is called " cultivated soci- 
ety," where originality of any kind rarely comes to the sur- 
face. Towards the end of the evening our host entered the 
room quietly and gingerly, as though he were treading on 
eggs ; he seated himself on the very edge of his chair, 
clasped his hands stiffly on his knees, and was dumb ; if 
anything struck him as " funny " he opened his mouth, 
let a laugh escape, and shut it again with a snap. Long 
before we parted for the night the storm was over. 

The morning broke calm and fair ; no sign of the last 
night's tempest lingered on earth, in air, or sky, and we 
started on an excursion to Austin Creek, a beautiful 
romantic spot, about four miles on the other side of the 
forest. 

On first starting from Duncan Mills we had to ford the 
Russian River, which was somewhat swollen owing to the 
heavy rains of the previous night. The horses plunged 
in, and before they had taken many steps the water was 
up to their bellies and surged over the axletrees of the 
carriage. Instead of crossing the river direct, our driver 
turned and drove towards the sea. I say " drove," but 
he merely let the reins lie on the horses' necks and al- 
lowed them to follow their own devices. To our eyes, 
looking over the sides of the carriage, it seemed as though 
we were being carried away by the strong tide that was 
flowing seawards. We glanced at our driver's face ; it 
was perfectly serene ; he was evidently master of the situ- 
ation. In answer to our anxious eyes he said, " There's 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 253 

no danger, ladies ; these horses have swum this river 
when it was sixteen feet deep." 

"All very well for the horses," I replied, " but the car- 
riage couldn't swim too." After going about a hundred 
yards down the river, he turned the horses' heads, and we 
were thankful to be once more on dry land. Almost im- 
mediately we plunged into the narrow forest paths, which 
are rough and uneven, and by no means pleasant to travel 
over, especially when we come to a piece of corduroy 
road, which consists of the felled trunks of trees, laid 
across, and partially sinking into a muddy Slough of 
Despond. 

We are so bumped and bruised, and jolted from one 
side to the other, we can scarcely breathe, — we clutch the 
carriage sides, — we cling to each other, and when we are 
safe over, we feel our limbs to see if there is not a case of 
dislocation somewhere. For nearly two hours we drive 
through the solemn redwood forest, the tall straight trees 
growing like an army around us ; there is no gentle sway- 
ing or fluttering of branches here ; they rise high above 
our heads, and twist and turn their dark masses together, 
shutting out the light of the sun. We presently come to 
a part of the forest more densely populated with its silent 
multitude, where the trees grow larger, taller, and their 
gnarled roots force their way upward, and lie, like writhing 
serpents, petrified on the ground. The sound of the wood- 
man's axe has never echoed through this solitude ; it is a 
wild, virgin forest, vast, and in parts almost impenetrable. 
The roughness of the roads detracts somewhat from the 
pleasure of this excursion, though on arriving at Austin 



254 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

Creek you are well repaid for your trouble. It is a most 
delightful spot, dreamy and romantic ; you feel inclined to 
sit there by the bubbling water, and dream the long day 
through. An old backwoodsman, — quite a character in 
his way, — lives in a pretty rustic cottage near the creek, 
and is always ready to refresh his visitors with a good sup- 
ply of lager beer, tea, coffee, the whitest of bread, and 
yellowest of butter ; and, perhaps a salmon trout, fresh 
from the stream, to add flavour to the simple meal. 

We made sundry other excursions in the beautiful 
neighbourhood of Duncan Mills, and left on the third day. 
The household turned out to walk with us across to the 
station, which is not fifty yards from the hotel door ; the 
women with bright-coloured kerchiefs thrown over their 
heads ; our solemn, silent host carrying our valise ; a fat 
sow, with a young Htter of grunters ; two huge setters, 
with whom we had made great friends, and a pig-tailed 
Chinaman bringing up the rear. Our kind hostess handed 
us a dainty basket of fruits and sandwiches as we shook 
hands all round, and said '' good-bye." Our gallant ex- 
pressman, too, put in an appearance at the last moment ; 
he had just time to wave his sombrero and wish us " God 
speed," when our smart little engine gave a snort, a jerk, 
and started on her way. 

Beautiful as the redwoods are in this locality, they are 
not so fine as the redwoods in the neighbourhood of Santa 
Cruz, which is one of the loveliest seaside resorts on that 
part of the coast. The road to these redwoods is a most 
attractive one, through canons filled with trees, all stretch- 
ing their long arms upwards ready to clutch you as you 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 255 

pass by ; sparkling streams, whose waters are ever flowing 
round spurs of timbered hills, broken with gorges and deep 
ravines, scars of an earthquake or sabre- cuts of time ; 
then we wind along the steep mountain-side, looking down 
upon the boiling river, which is rushing among the broken 
boulders below. At last there is a sharp turn, and rapid 
descent into the forest, where there are some magnificent 
redwoods, second only to the world-famous "big trees " 
of the Calaveras and Mariposa groves. We are soon in 
the midst of them ; they grow so smooth, so straight, and 
high, like the columns of some great cathedral, outspread- 
ing and uniting their leafy crowns like a groined green 
roof, more than a hundred feet above our heads. We 
wander through these symmetrica], silent aisles, — the tri- 
umph of nature's architectural grandeur, — and feel in- 
clined to bow our heads and lift our hearts heavenward. 

It is difficult at first to realize the dimensions of these 
giants of the forest, all being of an immense size and 
height. There is no contrast ; but when some of our 
party went to measure one we speedily realized its magni- 
tude, for the men and women looked like animated dolls 
parading slowly round the huge trunk. They measured it 
about four feet from the ground, and ascertained that it 
was more than seventy-five feet in circumference. This 
was considered one of the largest. We entered into one 
hollow trunk where General Fremont had taken a fort- 
night's rest during his arduous expedition westwards. 
After he had vacated this sylvan retreat a man with a wife 
and two children took possession and lived there for two 
years, while they were gathering together money and ma- 



256 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

terials to build themselves a home on the fringe of the 
forest about three miles eastward. On one side they had 
inserted a glass window, which is still there, and, strange 
to say, unbroken ; in another place they had cut a huge 
round hole, evidently for a stovepipe to carry off the 
smoke. One very fine symmetrical tree was clothed to 
the height of six feet with visiting cards, stuck on with 
tin-tacks ! We wandered for some hours through this 
sacred solitude, and left it with much regret, feeling it was 
perhaps the last excursion we should make on this side of 
the Rocky Mountains. 

We return to San Francisco, and somewhat dolefully 
make preparations for our departure from this glorious 
sunland ; but our time is up, and the longer we stay the 
greater will grow our regrets. We spend our last few days 
in paying farewell visits, and go through that melancholy 
cerremony with satisfactory calm. We keep our lugubri- 
ous feeling deep down in our hearts, and say " good-bye " 
with smiling faces. We had entered San Francisco at 
sunset ; we leave it in the rosy morning, when the sun is 
shining and flooding the beautiful city and its purple hills 
with golden light. A host of our kind friends escort us 
across the bay. Our hearts are too full to talk much, so 
with eloquent hand-clasps and brief '^ good-byes " we 
part. 

The huge ferryboat bears them back to their Golden 
City, which fades from our sight in a mist, — a mist that 
blurs it in our eyes only ; then the great yellow cars of the 
Central Pacific bear us eastward. We pass through the 
Sacramento Valley, climb once more the grand Sierras, 



IN THE FOREST PRIMEVAL. 



257 



and California fades from our sight, and is fast becoming 
only a memory and a dream. 

To all those who are in search of health, of novelty, and 
who are able to enjoy the noblest, grandest, and most 
varied scenery this world can boast, I would say, " Go 
Westward," go over the sea, across the Rocky Mountains, 
the glorious Sierras, and sit down at the Golden Gate and 
rest. 




CHAPTER XXIII. 



THE SILVER STATE 



Snowed in — Indians — Journey to Denver — A Forage for a Supper 
— "Crazed" — Domestic Difficulties— Colorado Springs — Chey- 
enne Canon — The " Garden of the Gods " — Ute Pass — Glen 
Eyrie. 




NCE more we are travelling eastward. It is 
early April, and in the land we have left the 
earth is wearing her gorgeous spring robes, 
embroidered with the loveliest and brightest of wild 
flowers ; they are everywhere, they cover her like a jew- 
elled mosaic of crimson, violet, white, and gold. No- 
where is there such a luxuriant growth of wild flowers as 
in California. We soon begin to feel that we have left 
the land of the sun behind us. The weather grows cool, 
and the blue skies are filled with floating islands of leaden 
clouds. At Colfax, which we reach about six o'clock in 
the evening, there is a general bustle and confusion. 
There is something wrong ahead ; everybody worries 
everbody with inquiries '' What is the matter ? " and we 
learn, to our chagrin, that the weight of snow has broken 
in a thousand feet of snow sheds on the summit of the 
Sierras. We are shunted on to a siding where we are to 

258 



THE SILVER STATE. 259 

remain for the night, while fifty men are told off to clear 
the road. They come swinging down upon the platform, a 
crowd of strong, weather-beaten fellows, while the moon, 
shining like a white ghost amid the thunder-clouds above, 
lights up their swarthy faces. An engine and truck is 
soon prepared. They swarm into it, loaded with pick- 
axes and shovels ; they overflow and cling wherever they 
can find a foothold ; and the engine, with a huge snow- 
plough as big as a house, goes snorting and shrieking on 
its way, the men shouting and hurrahing as it bears them 
out of sight. We go to bed somewhat disconsolately ; the 
idea of being " snowed in " at the foot of the mountains 
is not pleasant, and we look forward anxiously to what 
may await us at the top. At six in the morning it is tele- 
graphed " All clear," and we recommence our journey. 
A gray mist has rolled over the Sierras, and shrouded the 
magnificent forest in a gray cloud mantle ; we look down 
on a weird world of shadows ; here and there a gleam of 
sunlight breaks out from the gloomy skies and is gone in 
a moment. It is dreary travelling for a while — a gray 
sky above, a gray world below, and a gray cloud mist 
falling over us on all sides ; but our living street moves 
slowly with slackened speed through all. We settle down 
in a comfortable palace car, and with a chosen few of our 
fellow-passengers form quite a pleasant coterie. We visit 
each other's sections, passing freely from one car to an- 
other ; we read, chat, tell anecdotes (some of us had quite 
a gift that way), and keep the ball of conversation rolling 
pretty briskly ; when our wits are exhausted we take 
refuge in the inevitable fifteen puzzle. 



2 6o THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

In the evening we had our section Hghted, and played 
a solemn game of whist, or were initiated into the mys- 
teries of euchre, or watched the rollicking game of poker 
being carried on by a merry party in the opposite section. 

The weather changed, the clouds hfted, and the next 
morning we found ourselves once more ascending the 
Rocky Mountains, which struck us with an idea of even 
greater sublimity, now that the novelty of our first view 
had worn off. The sun shone brilliantly, and an intense 
blue sky bent over us as we slowly wound our way through 
the lovely God-created world of stone where no man 
dwells. At Elko, and sundry other mountain stations, 
the Indians came down to see the trains pass. There 
were braves of all ages, with their squaws and pappoose 
staring in silent stolidity at the bustling scene. They were 
evidently got up for effect. The women wore striped 
blankets pinned round their bodies, and bright handker- 
chiefs or shawls over their heads. Their long matted 
hair streamed over their shoulders, sometimes over their 
eyes ; and they had added to their natural attractions by 
blotches of coarse red paint daubed on the dark faces. 
The men were, on the whole, more gaily dressed and 
painted than the women. One especially attracted our 
attention. He was evidently a " buck " of the first water. 
He wore a blue blanket wrapped round him, and on his 
head a broad-brimmed ragged felt hat, with a mass of 
blue feathers drooping on his shoulders. The men stood 
in groups, solemnly regarding us with their big black 
eyes, still as statues ; the women squatted on the plat- 
form or peeped at us from round corners. It was not 



THE SILVER STATE. 261 

exactly pleasant, but very interesting to find ourselves 
amid a score or two of this savage race, the men all armed 
with guns and knives. Some of them got on to the train 
(all Indians are allowed to ride free, getting on and off as 
they please : they never ride in cars with the other pas- 
sengers, but on the steps or in the baggage van) and went 
with us to the next station. 

After a run of five days we reach Denver City, capital 
of the Silver State of Colorado. It is near midnight as 
we roll through the silent streets and stop at the Grand 
Central Hotel, whose doors are hospitably open to re- 
ceive us. We are tired and hungry. We had reserved a 
good appetite, intending to dine at Cheyenne, where we 
knew we should get a luxurious meal ; but as we desired 
to push on to Denver that night, and there was no con- 
necting train at Cheyenne proper, we turned off at the 
junction, and having missed our dinner reach Denver in 
a semi-exhausted state. A solitary black porter, all 
smiles, relieves us of our hand-baggage, and shows us to a 
clean comfortable room on the third floor, the only un- 
occupied room in the house. It was fortunate we tele- 
graphed, or we should not have had that. The house is 
crowded, the town is crowded ; people are -pouring in 
and out every day on their way to and from " Leadville,'* 
a city that has grown up in two years, and has churches, 
banks, waterworks, stage roads cut out of a wilderness, 
and thirty thousand inhabitants. Mines are open, shafts 
sunken, and thousands of workers are digging in the bow- 
els of the earth, searching for gold and silver — finding it, 
too. We ask for supper. We cannot have anything till 



262 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

the morning. The cook has gone ; the larder is locked 
up. We stand aghast, but not cast down. We insist 
that we shall die of exhaustion before the morning, and 
we " 7nust have something — anything, we don't care 
what." He grins, shows his white teeth, scratches his 
woolly head, and shakes it in the teeth of our distress. 
At last, by dint of prayers and entreaties, we induce him 
to go on a foraging expedition into the town. He returns 
presently — I believe he knocked up the doctor — with 
some roughly cut sandwiches of rancid butter and tough 
leathery beef in one hand, and a bottle of lager beer in 
the other. With this we are forced to be satisfied, if not 
content. 

The next morning we have a capital breakfast, and are 
most anxious to go on a reconnoitring expedition through 
the town, but a blinding snowstorm confines us to the 
house. Still it is not cold ; although there is a stove in 
the room we do not need a fire. It clears up in the after- 
noon ; we wrap ourselves in our warmest clothing and 
prepare to sally forth. As we cross the hall we hear our 
name uttered in a familiar tone, and we encounter an old 
friend whom we had last seen in a London drawing-room. 
He recognized us; we should never have recognized him, in 
his frontier dress, with top-boots, broad sombrero hat, and 
clean-shaven face, bronzed and brown with the "bright 
sun's kiss." He had just returned from a seven-hundred- 
mile ride through the Indian territory, and still had his 
knives and pistols in his belt. These he now deposited 
in a huge box, which the office clerk proudly opened for 
our inspection. 



THE SILVER STATE. 263 

''See here, ladies ;" he said; "when the gentlemen 
come down from the hills they leave their arms here. 
Ours is a peaceable town now ; there is no need to go 
armed. A dozen years ago every man carried his life in 
his hand — the air was full of pistol-shots ; in foul weather 
it rained bullets. Now it is altogether different. You are 
as safe in the streets as in your own houses." He slammed 
the lid down with a clang. 

Our Chicago friend volunteered to escort us about the 
town if we would give him time " to refresh himself." He 
was a long time refreshing, and when he made his reap- 
pearance he was refreshed out of all knowledge. He had 
discarded his top-boots, frieze jacket, and broad sombrero, 
and now appeared white-shirted and frock-coated, fit for a 
lounge in Bond Street. He had dug out the insignia of 
civilization from the depths of a huge trunk which travelled 
ahead of him "in case of being wanted." He had de- 
stroyed his picturesqueness, but looked respectable. With 
this renovated being we paraded the streets of Denver. 
Its ancient rowdyism is dead ; its bowie-knived, swagger- 
ing, swearing population of ten years ago has departed ; it 
is now a peaceful, law-abiding city, with long streets or 
boulevards planted with fine trees, which in summer-time 
must form a delightful shade, but in consequence of the 
great altitude, I suppose the summer is very backward 
here, for at present there is not a single green leaf to be 
seen. There are numbers of handsome dwelling-houses, 
mostly occupied by families who have flocked from all 
parts of the world, and settled here in consideration of the 
beautiful climate, which is genial and pleasant at all sea- 



264 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

sons, and especially beneficial to those who are in the least 
affected with any chest or lung disease. I have met here 
many hale, strong, hearty men, who the moment they leave 
the city and descend to the valleys below become suffer- 
ing invalids. It is the same throughout the entire State of 
Colorado ; the pure rarefied air has a surprisingly healing 
effect upon the lungs, and the asthmatic sufferers breathe 
like healthy men ; they only recognize their afflictions 
when they leave these mountain heights. There are num- 
bers of very handsome shops of all descriptions, the jew- 
ellers making a specially brilliant display ; they are the 
best patronized, perhaps, of any here, for the miners, when 
they have made their " pile," come down from the hills 
and invest their gold in diamonds and jewellery for their 
wives or sweethearts. There are substantial banks ; plenty 
of churches and chapels for all denominations and creeds ; 
very fine public buildings— town hall, library, poUce courts, 
etc. The inhabitants are especially tetchy, and take 
seriously to heart any observation concerning the respect- 
ability of their city, and are greatly scandalized by any 
allusion to its former delinquencies. It is like a reformed 
rake in broadcloth and fine linen, and resents any allusion 
to its days of bowie-knives and buckskins. There is very 
good, though not exactly luxurious, accommodation for 
travellers in the way of hotels ; but there is a monster 
hotel now in the course of building, which promises a 
combination of luxuries and comforts to tourists of the 
future. 

The city is built on a wide plateau five thousand feet 
above the sea-level. A few streets and houses cover a 



THE SILVER STATE. 265 

wide area ; there is plenty of room to build and breathe 
in. Some of the streets, two miles long, have scarcely 
fifty houses in them, but these are surrounded by gardens 
and pleasure-grounds ; they are very wide, and planted 
with rows 'of cotton trees. The roads in all directions are 
beautifully smooth ; it is a delight to drive over them. It 
is now the 12th of April ; there is a bright blue sky, warm 
balmy sunshine, and a crisp invigorating air, but there is 
not a flower to be seen, not the twitter of a spring bird to 
be heard anywhere. Ranges of hills and mountains arise 
on all sides of it, some far away over the plains, some near, 
but mostly covered with eternal snows, their icy peaks 
1 flashing in the sunshine in striking contrast to the blue 
\ foothills below. Glancing on one side we see a wide end- 
I less plain ; it seems bounded by the horizon. This, by 
mild gradations, unbroken by hills or mountains, leads 
through towns, forests, and cultivated prairie lands to the 
Mississippi river six hundred miles. 

Having promenaded the streets of Denver for some 
hours we return to our Grand Central Hotel. On our way 
up to our rooms we meet a young, pretty-looking girl with 
an intensely preoccupied look upon her face. She hurries 
past us. We are inclined to ask "if anything is the 
matter ? " but before we have time to think she is gone. 
We meet her several times during the after part of the day, 
running up and down the stairs, or roaming along the pas- 
sages, still with the same strange, intent look upon her 
face. Late in the evening, v/hile we are sitting chatting 
previous to retiring to rest, the handle of our door is very 

quietly turned. We step forward and throw it open. 
12 



266 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

There is no one there, but this girl is hurrying along the 
corridor, wringing her hands and moaning pitifully, '' I've 
lost a pair of little baby's shoes ! " and throughout the 
long night she was wandering about the house, along the 
passages, and up and down the stairs, uttering the same 
pathetic cry. 

The next morning we were roused by a succession of 
piercing shrieks, and on our hurrying out to learn the 
cause, found the poor girl being dragged through the 
corridor by two sturdy, rough-looking men, who certainly 
did not "do their spiriting gently." All the visitors had 
turned out of their rooms, alarmed at the tragic disturb- 
ance, and though every one deplored what seemed to be 
the unnecessary violence of these petty officers " dressed 
in their brief authority," no one spoke to prevent it, well 
knowing that any interference with the " police " is danger- 
ous, and followed by dangerous consequences. In spite 
of her heartrending shrieks, and appeals for help, the un- 
fortunate creature was dragged down the stairs uttering 
the one piteous cry — 

" I've done no harm. I was only looking for my little 
baby's shoes." 

"She's crazy," volunteered the head waiter. "It is 
very sad. She's a stranger, too, in these parts ; nobody 
knows anything about her. She drove up here yesterday 
morning in the station fly, and engaged a room, but she 
behaved queer, roaming about the house all day and all 
night. We were forced to send for the police to take 
her away ; we could not have crazy folk hanging round 
here." 



THE SILVER STATE. 267 

We returned silently to our rooms, all of us, I think 
sad at heart — the men looking especially downcast, evi- 
dently feeling that they might have dont" soj?iet/n7ig for 
this solitary distressed woman. But what ? They all 
knew that authority once acknowledged in these moun- 
tain cities must be held unquestioned and supreme. 

It is quite a common thing in Denver for families to 
take up their residence entirely at hotels. Only two 
classes of people can enjoy the luxury of a home, viz., 
those who possess great wealth, and are able to keep large 
establishments, and pay princely wages for very indiffer- 
ent service ; and those who are able and willing to do 
their own housework, cooking, etc., without any extra- 
neous help whatever. People of modest means, who in 
the old country might enjoy a cosy home and neat-handed 
maidservant, must not look for it here. An English lady 
resident in the hotel gave me her experience in the mat- 
ter. She took a pretty house, furnished it, engaged a 
"help," and prepared once more to enjoy the luxury of 
home : the " help " had laid down the law what she would 
do, and what she would 7iot do. All preliminaries being 
satisfactorily arranged, she entered on her duties. The 
dinner-hour came ; the table was laid for three. 

" There will be only the Captain and myself to dinner 
to-day ; we seldom have company," said the mistress. 

"But there's me! I'm to dine with you, I suppose?" 
replies the " help." 

Upon its being mildly suggested that their conversation 
would not be particularly interesting to her^besides 
" they preferred dining alone " — she flounced out of the 



26S THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

room. An hour afterwards the mistress ventured into the 
kitchen to learn the cause of the dinner's delay, and dis- 
covered that savoury meal flung into the scullery sink, 
the fire raked out, and the irate "help " departed ! 

Household labour is at a premium. The social aspect 
of affairs seems to be turned upside down ; it is the 
employee who dictates terms, not the employer. There 
exists a kind of female domestic guild, whose members 
seem eternally " on strike." They decide who shall be 
served and who shall not be served ; the scale of wages, 
and the rules to be observed by the household they con- 
descend to enter. Woe be to the mistress who rebels 
against her maid ! — she shall be maidless ever after. In 
spite, however, of this trifling drawback to domestic bliss, 
many ladies are brave enough to face the difficulties, and 
accompany their lords to the fields of gold, as in the old 
days they did to the field of battle. Denver is, and will 
long continue to be, crowded with adventurers from all 
parts of the world, for it is a place where fortunes are 
easily made, — perhaps as easily lost. It is a paradise, 
they say, for men, dogs, and horses, but no heaven for 
women. 

The next day we bid adieu to our friend, who is start- 
ing for Leadville, while we take the train for " Colorado 
Springs," about four hours' run from Denver City. We 
reach the depot early, and take our seats in an empty 
car ; throngs of people begin to arrive, some on foot, 
some in ramshackle vehicles of all descriptions ; the 
hotel omnibuses dash up one after the other and empty 
their living freight upon the platform, which is speedily 



1 



1 



i 



THE SILVER STATE. 269 

crowded with an array of masculine humanity ; but there 
is not a woman to be seen — not one ! 

A dark, swarthy, rough-looking set of men they are, 
with stern, impassive faces ; they are mostly armed, and 
are evidently bound for the hills hundreds of miles up 
the country. One after another they swarm into the cars, 
exchange silent salutations ; a nod, a smile, perhaps a few 
low-voiced words, and that is all. There is no laugh- 
ing, no handshaking, no jesting, no geniality ; they are 
thoughtful, energetic men, and all seem bent on the 
world's most serious business ; each bearing the weight 
of his own concerns. Some read the Denver News. No- 
body seems to be sociably inclined towards his neighbour ; 
occasional scraps of conversation are floated to our ears ; 
but they are mostly silent and preoccupied. We are the 
only ladies on board the cars, but that is not an embarras- 
sing fact. No one takes any notice of us ; they don't 
even seem to glance our way, though the fact of two 
ladies travelling in these regions without an escort must 
have been a novelty. Occasionally, if the sun incom- 
moded us, a hand belonging to an invisible body arranged 
our blinds comfortably : by this token only was our pres- 
ence recognized. 

We reach Colorado Springs about midday, and as the 
train stops, a bearded giant in top-boots addressed us in 
lamb-like tones — 

" You get out here ? Strangers, I guess ? " 

We admitted both facts. 

" Know what hotel you're going to ? No ? Well, I 
guess you'll find the National about the thing. " 



I 



270 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

In another moment we find ourselves and our hand- 
baggage deposited in the omnibus of the National Hotel, 
and our depositor, with a profound obeisance, stands 
bareheaded as we drive away. 

Colorado Springs (so called, I suppose, because the 
nearest spring is five miles off) stands on a sandy plain, 
six thousand feet above the sea-level ; the Rio Grande 
Railway has a station here, where there is clean, comfort- 
able, though not luxurious accommodation for tourists 
desiring to explore the attractions of this wonderful State, 
with its boundless plains, ice-crowned mountains, and 
great rolling uplands, sweeping away till they are broken 
up by the low, rugged foothills, or lost among eternal 
snows. Colorado Springs is a bright, lively little town, 
which during the last five years, has risen from the wild 
prairie land, and has now a population of three thousand 
residents. There are two other delightful resorts in the 
neighbourhood — the old Colorado city, sedate, solemn, 
and picturesque, but much neglected by tourists gener- 
ally, who prefer the brisk, bustling "Springs," or the 
more aristocratic '* Manitou," about six miles off, which is 
most romantically situated, and has luxurious hotel ac- 
commodation. In the immediate vicinity are several soda 
and iron springs, at which any passing traveller may stop 
and drink. Any one who tastes, as we did (we did more 
than taste, we drank draughts of it), the sparkling soda 
water bubbling up from its natural source, will forswear 
the manufactured article ever after. 

On the afternoon of our arrival we start on an expedi- 
tion to Cheyenne Canon, some half-dozen miles from the 



THE SILVER STATE. 2; I 

"Springs." We feel the full magnetism of this rarefied 
mountain air as we speed over the wide, rolling plain, 
which spreads in billowy waves of short gray-green grass 
on all sides of uS; The skies are intensely blue, the air 
flooded with sunshine. Not the twitter of a bird is to be 
heard, not a tree is in leaf, not a flower in blossom, and it 
is late in iVpril. The white bare branches of the cotton 
tree stand out like silvery lacework, traced in fantastic 
patterns upon the bright blue sky. There is nothing of 
soft, pretty picturesqueness here ; it is all grand, wild, and 
bare. 

" You should have come here in June," says our driver ; 
^' there will be plenty of greenery and flowers then. Of 
course everything is looking dry and thirsty now ; we 
haven't had a drop of rain since last August. It's due 
now, though ; we're expecting showers every day." 

We get out of the carriage at the mouth of the canon, 
and make our way through this wonderful chasm on foot 
as best we can, climbing over the rough, broken boulders 
crossing and recrossing the creek, now on felled tree- 
trunks, balancing ourselves on stones or stumps, climbing 
up slippery banks, beneath the shadow of the great gray 
rocks which lift their rugged heights five hundred feet 
above our head. Looking up we see a band of blue sky. 
We are wandering through a twilight world ; not a gleam 
of sunshine ever strays into these mysterious depths. We 
are surrounded on all sides by. these dark, jagged rocks — 
above, below, everywhere — as though they would crowd 
round and crush us. Here and there a gnarled skeleton 
tree starts from some deep fissure, as though it had wasted 



2/2 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

its life trying to get out ; and the gurgling waterfalls, 
gliding down from their home in the mountains to join 
the brawling stream below, makes a pleasant plashing 
music to our ears. We spend two hours amid the gloomy 
grandeur of Cheyenne Canon, and return to the hotel in 
time for dinner. 

The next morning early we start for the " Garden of 
the Gods," which is no paradise of shady groves and 
blooming flowers, but a collection of bright red rocks of 
most curious formations, covering an area of about fifty 
acres. At the entrance to the garden stand two tall red 
sandstone cliffs, rising sheer up from the ground to a 
height of three hundred feet. Glancing through these 
gigantic gates, and framed as it were within them, we see 
" Pike's Peak " flashing its icy crown in the face of the 
sun. It is seventy-five miles away, but it is so clearly 
outlined it seems quite near. We fancy we can distin- 
guish the cattle grazing among the blue foothills below. 
We enter between these gates and find ourselves amid 
what might even be the ruins of some grand God-created 
cathedral, created and ruined before the age of man ; the 
tall straight columns still stand crumbling in the deserted 
aisles, and the " garden " is spread like a panorama before 
us ; the bright red sandy ground, rising and undulating 
in all directions, is embroidered with silvery sage brush 
and tufts of gray-green prairie grass ; here and there the 
straggling evergreen trees struggle into a dwarfed, half- 
barren life. Their scanty verdure is, however, a relief to 
the eyes, for the intense blue skies and the golden sun- 
light, shining on the red rocky world round us, fiorm a 



THE SILVER STATE. 273 

mass of brilliant colouring that is dazzling to the sight, 
and contrasts strongly with the massive white rocks which 
stand outside the garden gates. Weird, strange figures 
and half-formed fantastic shapes are on all sides of us, 
sometimes grotesque, like things seen in a dream, but 
always realistic and impressive. Local genius has classi- 
fied these wonderful formations, and given to them famil- 
iar names ; but the gHb guide's chatter is wearisome. We 
prefer to wander at our leisure through this marvellous 
locality, and let our imagination run riot amid this warm 
glow of brilliant colouring and world of petrified wonders. 
It is easy to fancy that this must have been the play- 
ground or workshop of some athletic gods of old, who 
were disturbed in their work or in their play when the 
thunder of the Almighty Voice rolled down the moun- 
tain-side and called them home. The laggards were 
turned to stone ; the warrior, with his broken club, is 
half-buried in the ground ; and the tall figure of a veiled 
nun and hooded friar are rooted to the earth, where they 
are doomed to stand for all the world's wonder till the 
judgment day. 

We cast many a long, lingering look behind us as we 
leave this fascinating spot, this veritable region of en- 
chantment, which holds our thoughts chained long after 
it has passed from our sight. We drive on to Glen Eyrie, 
where there are some curious rocky formations of various 
colours — green, purple, and a dull dead gold ; and, rising 
amid a very wilderness of cotton-wood and fir-trees, stands 
a group of gigantic needle-rocks — tall, straight-pointed 
shafts, which might be used to sew a broken world to- 



274 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

gether. There are various other grotesque formations, 
grouped in harmonious confusion amid a luxuriant growth 
of evergreens, which flourish here in greater perfection 
than in the wide open plains above. A stream of spark- 
ling water runs gurgling through the glen. Clinging, as 
it seems, like an eyrie-nest to the face of the cliff on the 
opposite side, is a lovely villa, the residence of General 
Palmer, the owner of the glen ; from this spot the view 
of the surrounding scenery is unequalled for its extent 
and picturesqueness. 

On our return journey we drive to the Ute pass, which, 
for the grandeur and sublimity of its scenery, is second 
to none. Not the ghost of an Indian is to be seen now 
on this their once favourite hunting-ground ; its narrow 
winding paths — with steep precipice and brawling river 
running below on the one side, and the tall gray cliff ris- 
ing on the other, sometimes overhanging above as though 
they might fall and crush us — are crowded now with 
wagon-trains, cattle, lumber-carts, and squadrons of men, 
women, and children all plodding their way to the Lead- 
ville mines near a hundred miles away. We could not 
abandon ourselves wholly to the beauty of the scenery, 
for we were occasionally diverted by the cries and shouts 
of the men as they extricated some little staggering calf 
from between our horses' hoofs or carriage wheels, while 
the poor mother lowed piteously in at the window, her 
horns in unpleasant proximity to our faces. We went as 
far as the Rainbow Falls, and then drove back through 
the pass, and thence to Manitou, where we pulled up for 
a few minutes and drank some delicious draughts from the 



THE SILVER STATE. 27$ 

sparkling soda springs. During the whole of this route 
our attention was constantly directed to some lovely 
homes, built sometimes on the hillsides, sometimes nest- 
ling at their feet, but always on some choice picturesque 
spot. These, we were told, are generally inhabited by 
English gentlemen, and one or two exceedingly pretty 
villas were pointed out to us as the residences of some 
American ladies of literary and artistic distinction. 

It was late in the afternoon as we rattled over the 
breezy uplands and across the bleak, bare plains, back to 
Colorado Springs, We caught many a glimpse of the gi- 
gantic gates, which guard the bright red garden of the 
gods ; in fact, they form the chief point in the landscape 
for many miles round. We regretted bitterly the compul- 
sory shortness of our stay in this wonderful region ; but 
we must ''move on," leaving the utmost grandeur unseen. 
We had heard so much of the beautiful valleys, verdure- 
clad ravines, gloomy gorges, and almost inaccessible 
mountains, rugged and ice-bound with eternal snows. 
Among the most regretted of these unseen wonders is the 
mountain of the ''Holy Cross." This most remarkable 
mountain is nearly fifteen thousand feet high, and the as- 
cent is so difficult that few attempt it. A contemporary 
describes it thus : — 

" The characteristic which gives it its name, is the ver- 
tical face, nearly three thousand feet in depth, with a cross 
at the upper portion, the entire fissures being filled with 
snow. The cross is of such remarkable size, and distinct 
contrast with the dark granite rock, that it can be seen 
nearly eighty miles away, and easily distinguished from all 



276 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

Other mountain-peaks. The snow seems to have been 
caught in the fissure, which is formed of a succession of 
steps, and here, becoming well lodged, it remains all the 
year. Late in the summer the cross is very much dimin- 
ished in size by the melting of the snow. A beautiful 
green lake lies at the base oi the peak, which forms a 
reservoir for the waters falling from the high peaks. The 
perpendicular arm of the cross is fifteen hundred feet in 
length, and fully fifty feet in breadth, the snow lying in 
the crevice from fifty to one hundred feet in depth ; the 
horizontal arm of the cross averages seven hundred 
feet." 

Although Colorado is a rainless land, water is plentiful, 
rivers and streams are abundant enough, and the system 
of irrigation is perfect. In no other part of this vast con- 
tinent are there more fertile, flourishing farms, or such a 
production of gigantic fruits and vegetables ; they tell of 
cabbages weighing forty pounds — potatoes, apples, grapes, 
in fact, fruits and vegetables of all kinds, in similar pro- 
portions. 

July and August are the best months for a tour in 
Colorado ; then the mountain-passes are open, the snow 
has almost disappeared from the higher regions, and the 
beautiful parks and valleys lying among the mountains are 
easy of access, while the gloomy gorges and marvellous 
canons, inaccessible at other seasons of the year, may be 
fully explored. There are some curious laws in Colorado. 
Any man who may be found spending his time in public- 
houses, saloons, gambling-houses, etc., and who is without 
any visible means of support, is liable to be arrested as a 



THE SILVER STATE. 277 

** vagrant," and upon being convicted by a justice of the 
peace, he is handed over to the sheriff's officer, to be sold 
at public auction to the highest bidder, for his services, 
for a term not exceeding three months. The proceeds of 
the sale to be given to his family, or, if he has no family, 
the money is added to the city treasury. I have just read 
a case in a Leadville paper : " Charles Green, having been 
convicted of vagrancy, was ordered to be sold at auction, 
and was placed on sale in front of Justice MacDowall's 
court yesterday forenoon, and auctioned off by Marshall 
Watson. Either his services were not considered valu- 
able, or the principle of buying at auction was not favour- 
ably entertained, for the vag only fetched two dollars. 
Mr. Wyman was the successful bidder." 





CHAPTER XXIV. 

BRICKS AND MORTAR. 

The Road to St. Louis — The Kansas Brigands' Exploit — Picturesque 
Population— Mississippi River — Washington— The Capitol— Pub- 
lic Buildings — Society — A Monument to a Lost Cause — Mount 
Vernon. 

E rest one more night in Denver, and start early- 
next morning for St. Louis, via Kansas City. 
We soon feel as though we have left all the 
beauty and brightness of the world behind ; for anything 
more dreary than the road thither cannot well be imagined. 
The whole day long, from morning till night, we look out 
upon the dull, uninteresting prairie land ; the icy peaks, 
snow-clad mountains, and verdant valley have all disap- 
peared, as though the magic plains had collapsed with all 
their wonders. We see nothing but the dreary dead level 
covered with short tufts of buffalo grass, so much beloved 
and so nutritious to the beasts of the plains. The road is 
strewn with the bones and bodies of dead cattle, some 
seeming to have dropped but yesterday, others bare skele- 
tons, their bones bleached dry and white in the crisp rare- 
fied air. No loathsome flies or birds of prey are hovering 
in the air ; for the bodies do not decay, they simply dry 
up, and in time the bones crumble into atoms, like pulver- 

278 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 279 

ized stone. It is a pitiful scene. The poor brutes have 
wandered from the herded numbers, to freeze and starve 
on these bleak plains. It is dull gray weather, the blue 
has faded from the skies, and for the greater part of the 
time a drizzling rain is falling. We buy a paper of the 
perambulating newsboy, and read the startling intelligence 
that only yesterday, on this very journey, two swag- 
gering ruffians, armed to the teeth, had boarded the train 
at a small wayside station ; the conductor recognized 
them at once as the two notorious brigands, Jesse and 
Henry James, whose illustrated " Lives and Exploits " 
were at that time, by a strange coincidence, being sold on 
the cars for twenty-five cents. 

" For God's sake, keep quiet — take no notice, whatever 
they do," whispered the anxious conductor to the rather 
alarmed passengers ; but they were evidently " off duty," 
neither robbery nor murder were on the cards that day. 
They swaggered about the cars, talking and laughing 
loudly, their very aspect creating alarm, as no one knew 
what might come next. They presently selected a table, 
ordered " supper and a bucket of champagne — quick as 
greased lightning, too." 

Their order was obeyed promptly as might be ; they 
flung their six-shooters on the table before them, enjoyed 
a hearty meal, becoming quite hilarious towards the end ; 
then readjusted their arms, stopped the train in the middle 
of the wilderness, stepped off the platform, saying — 

"Charge two more suppers to the Government." 

No such adventure befalls us ; we have a mere com- 
monplace journey, with no genial companionship to 



280 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

brighten the way. So, for nearly eight hundred miles, 
we journey through this interminable desert land. During 
the last hundred miles, however, signs of cultivation begin 
to appear. The first sight of green fields is blessed and 
refreshing to our eyes. Herds of cattle, thousands strong, 
are feeding on these wide Kansas plains, and presently 
homesteads and farmhouses are dotted here and there, 
lying in the laps of their own cultivated lands. Soon, 
among the gathering twilight shadows, there looms upon 
our sight a wide-spreading city, rising from the level 
plains. This is Kansas City. We steam into the station ; 
there is a general hubbub and confusion on the platform, 
which is crowded with a heterogeneous mass of humanity. 
There is the half-breed, clothed in a flour-sack or blanket; 
the cattle-dealer, in his quaint-cut fustian ; and a scanty 
few western tourists going eastward. There is a great 
pushing and struggling, everybody rushing in search of 
the right train, often getting into the wrong one ; engines 
are whistling and dashing in and out of the station, going 
to or coming from all points of the States. We wait here 
half an hour for refreshments ; there is a capital buffet, 
where you may get anything you require at a moderate 
price. For any one who is not professionally interested 
in agricultural progress, there is no temptation to stay in 
Kansas City. We change carriages, having secured our 
sleeping-car, and proceed on our way. Next morning 
about eight o'clock we reach St. Louis. 

Once more we are in a land of bricks and mortar ; the 
air is close, warm, the atmosphere what is best understood 
by *' muggy." We breathe the air with a sense of de- 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 28 1 

pression, both physically and mentally, and in the course 
of twenty-four hours our energies had left us so com- 
pletely, we thought they would never come back. The 
city is a fine, large, substantial one, with long streets and 
fine houses, with the usual amount of public buildings, 
churches, theatres, and other places of amusement. It is 
full of bright, bustling life, flourishing trade, and thriving 
manufactories ; there is a look of settled solidity about it 
that contrasts strongly with the Western cities we have 
been lately passing through. In some respects we might 
almost fancy ourselves transported back to London. 
Here are the omnibuses, tramcars, the gas-lamps, the long 
rows of tall houses, the hazy atmosphere, and the suffo- 
cating air of a damp July day ; a gray, cloudy sky above, 
and the glorious Mississippi rolling sluggishly through the 
town in a state of far more muddy impurity than our own 
much-maligned Thames. An extremely light and elegant 
bridge, both for foot-passengers or carriages, spans the 
river and connects one part of the city with the other. 
There are pretty little parks or pleasure-grounds breaking 
out in all parts of the crowded town for the people's 
benefit. On the outskirts there are two very beautiful 
and extensive pleasure-grounds — Tower Grove and 
Forest Park ; the former having been presented to the 
city by an English gentleman who has been a resident 
there for many years. It is beautifully laid out in shady 
walks and drives ; great taste has been used in the 
arrangement of the rare shrubs, trees, and flowers, which 
are everywhere displayed to the best advantage. Forest 
Park is farther away from the town, and is on a wilder, 



i 

282 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. \ 

larger scale, and rich in natural beauties. There are 
grand old forest trees, bosky dells, green slopes, and shady- 
nooks and corners, with a rich luxuriant growth of green 
everywhere. So far St. Louis reminds us of our native 
land ; but on closer observation, as we ramble through 
the streets and round about the town, we realize the fact 
that we are in a strange country. We explore the mar- 
kets, and they abound in all quarters of the town, and 
street stalls, which are likewise plentiful. Here are 
bushels of cocoanuts, yams, sweet potatoes, egg and oyster 
plants, rich gold and red bananas a quarter of a yard long, 
and all kinds of tropical fruits and flowers, and crowds of 
coloured people everywhere, engaged in every possible 
kind of business — a bright, busy, industrious population ; 
groups of curly-headed coloured children, slates and 
satchels in hand, hurrying to or from school, chattering 
and fluttering round like so many magpies. Little brown 
babies are paddling about, making mud-pies in the gutter, 
with a mingling of white babies joining in the fun ; women 
flash about with their short cotton skirts, big gold ear- 
rings, and kerchiefs of all ' the colours of the rainbow 
pinned across their breasts, or bound turban-like round 
their heads. The weather had partially cleared, and a 
lurid red sun looked down through the murky clouds on 
this semi-tropical city, as we took our last stroll through 
the busy kaleidoscopic streets. 

We stayed just long enough to get a gHmpse at the 
outer aspect of the city, and to test the hospitahty of one 
of its most prominent members, which was characterized 
by all the hearty cordiality of our friends at home. St. 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 283 

Louis, I believe, is justly proud of its cultivated and 
refined society, of which Judge H. J and his charm- 
ing wife are most attractive representatives. We spent a 
brief but pleasant time in their genial society, and only re- 
gretted our inability to stay longer and enjoy more of it. 

Another two days' railway travelling through the popu- 
lous Eastern States ; through manufacturing towns and ag- 
ricultural regions, with signs of prosperity and well-doing 
everywhere ; through straggling villages and grassy mead- 
ows — no wild, unkempt lands, gloomy canons, or weird 
ravines flash past us now — we reach Washington late in the 
evening, and drive through the briUiantly lighted streets 
to our hotel, the Ebbitt House, one of the most luxurious 
and delightful resting-places. In the morning we begin 
our usual campaign, and issue forth to reconnoitre the city 
— the finest and fairest of all the modern cities we have 
ever seen, or I believe we ever shall see (San Francisco 
excepted : that stands unique and alone). Its situation 
is most picturesque ; it stands at the head of the beautiful 
Potomac river, a chain of low-wooded hills forming a kind 
of amphitheatre behind and around it. The city was 
planned by George Washington during his early days at 
Moiint Vernon, and his design has been carried out in 
every particular, and has resulted in the production of 
one of the finest residential cities in the world ; for Wash- 
ington is by no means a busy, money-making, mercantile 
city. It is one of the most aristocratic quarters — if we 
may use that term in this republican land. Here is the 
seat of Government, and thither flock the diplomatic 
corps with their wives and families. The army and navy, 



284 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

the medical and legal professions, are also largely repre- 
sented ; for the pulse of the nation seems to require con- 
stant regulating, like a Brummagem watch with the main- 
spring out of order ; and the legal machine is always at 
hand, well oiled, and in good order, ready to right the 
wrong, or wrong the right, as the case may be. There is 
society here, too, which keeps rigidly to its own lines, and 
allows no doubtful outsider to set foot within its magic 
circle. You must have your credentials ready, and well 
attested, for delivery at the doors. There are gradations 
of society here as elsewhere, from the elite and fashion of 
the White House, to the lowest rung of the social ladder. 
Each forms its own circle ; one rarely touches the other ; 
each keeps distinct and to itself. The equality and fra- 
ternity system, if indeed it exists anywhere, certainly ends 
here, and Madame Etiquette holds sovereign sway. No 
fear of meeting a man-milliner in her domain ; everything 
is exclusive and select ; everybody as a rule knows 
" who's who," and if they do not they take the quickest 
and surest means to find out. A visit to the consul of 
any special nation is generally satisfactory in such per- 
sonal matters. 

It is a positive pleasure to walk about the streets of 
Washington ; they are all wide, beautifully clean, and 
paved with tiles as red as cherries, with rows of shady 
trees on either side — a luxuriant regiment keeping guard 
over the quaint, old-fashioned-looking brick houses be- 
hind. There are no ragged edges, or jagged fringe of 
squalid homes, clinging to the skirts of the town. It is 
all neatly finished up ; there are no dilapidated sidewalks, 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 285 

or rugged roadways ; it is everywhere smooth and pleas- 
ant, either for driving or walking. There are wide streets 
of handsome shops, as well stocked and tastefully ar- 
ranged as those on the Paris Boulevards. 

The public buildings are generally of fine white marble, 
or of sandstone painted to resemble it, and most impress- 
ive and massive structures they are. The Patent Office 
is really a splendid edifice — a fine specimen of Doric ar- 
chitecture, most striking for its simple, majestic grandeur ; 
the body is of sandstone painted white, but the wings are 
of pure marble. The Treasury is also remarkably impress- 
ive ; it has a colonnaded front 330 feet long, supported 
by thirty elegant Ionic columns, and is flanked on either 
side by extensive buildings of massive granite masonry, 
which breaks the monotony of the long colonnaded front 
of the chief building ; it has several magnificent porticoes, 
and on either side of the platform or steps leading there- 
to are masses of beautiful shrubs and flowers. About the 
centre of the city, and dominating the landscape for miles 
round, stands the Capitol, high and mighty in its pure 
architectural glory, crowning a gently swelling hill, and 
surrounded by a garden of velvet lawns, and shrubs, and 
flowers, sloping down to the wide park-like streets, which 
radiate from all sides of it ; its white wings spread on 
either side. Lofty flights of marble steps lead to the col- 
onnaded galleries which encircle the building. The beau- 
tiful white dome (which is only four feet lower than St. 
Paul's, and, standing on a cleared space of elevated 
ground, appears higher and more imposing), with its 
graceful spire, is silhouetted against the bright blue sky. 



286 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

The architecture is purely Corinthian, and in every par- 
ticular it is most elaborately finished. The view from the 
portico of the Capitol is very fine. The city's self spreads 
a wide panoram a on all sides, melting away into the softly 
swelling hills and wooded valleys beyond ; while the silvery 
streak of the Potomac seems to creep out from between 
the distant hills, gliding and wending its serpentine way 
till it meets and merges into the shining waters of the bay. 
To give the briefest description of the rest of the public 
buildings, schools, etc., of this beautiful young city would 
fill more pages than I dare devote to the subject ; they 
are all specimens of architectural beauty of various kinds. 
The Smithsonian Institute is perhaps one of the most 
striking ; it makes no attempt to trench on classic ground, 
and is of no special style, but a mingling of many. Some, 
who will accept nothing without a name, call it Roman- 
esque, or Byzantine, or Norman ; it is neither, but a fan- 
ciful rendering of all, and the result is most striking and 
effective. The Botanical Gardens, comprising ten acres 
of land, lies by the West Capitol Park, and the elegant 
conservatories and beautifully laid out grounds form a 
prominent feature in the landscape. Rare trees, and 
shrubs, and flowers of every clime are flourishing here ; 
among them is one of rare significance, the ^//;;;^-cane of 
South America. If man or woman taste the sap from the 
root of this tree, it destroys their powers of speech. 

We could not be in Washington without paying a visit 
to the Senate Chamber and House of Representatives, to 
which the public have free access, even when the House 
is sitting. Of course the floor of the house is occupied 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 28/ 

by members of Congress. A gallery, three or four seats 
deep, runs round the building for the use of visitors. As 
we entered, Mr. Thurman was speaking on the Alabama 
indemnity. He has a fine presence, a good delivery, and 
spoke most eloquently upon the subject. I don't know 
whether he was much listened to, A good deal of parlia- 
mentary eloquence is flung to the wind. Each member 
had a desk before him. Some were writing, some were 
reading the news, some were dozing, others looked ex- 
tremely bored, while a few were having a genial conversa- 
tion. The floor was strewn with papers. Boy-messengers 
were flashing hither and thither, larking by the way as 
though they were just out ot school. The whole scene 
was wanting in that grave decorum and order which char- 
acterize our own parliamentary assemblies. On going 
from one Chamber to the other — the Senate which repre- 
sents our House of Lords — we heard loud talking, it 
seemed of many voices. We glanced through the half- 
opened door at the crowd within, and inquired of the 
thin, loose-jointed individual who was lounging about on 
the threshold taking his duty easily, " if there was any- 
thing interesting going on ? " 

" They're doing nothing," he answered with supreme 
contempt ; " they're always doing nothing — and they take 
a long time about it. They've been a-filibustering and 
a-filibustering all day, and I suppose they'll go on all night. 
I'm sick of 'em." 

There are lovely drives all round Washington City, some 
of historic interest. Our first visit was to Arlington House, 
the home of General Robert Lee ; it is but a short drive 



288 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

from the city, and stands in a most prominent position on 
Arlington Heights, surrounded by lovely scenery, and in 
the distance, looming out of the city's midst, stands the 
Capitol " with white dome lifted." At the close of the 
war the estate was confiscated, and a great portion of the 
beautiful grounds was set apart as a burial-ground for the 
Union soldiers. On every side, stretching away into the 
dim distance, are graves — graves everywhere ; thousands 
upon thousands of them, not raised in mounds, but under 
the smooth turfed ground. Each one is marked by a 
stone about a foot high, setting forth the name and age of 
the sleeper below. It seems a strange fatality that the 
home of the grand old rebel soldier should be the resting- 
place of the federal dead. In one part of the grounds 
stands a massive granite sarcophagus, which is placed over 
the bones of two thousand one hundred and eleven un- 
known soldiers, gathered from the battle-field of "Bull 
Run" and the route to Rappahannock after the war. 
The house is dismantled now, and our hollow footsteps 
echo through the vacant passages and empty chambers. 
As we wander through the deserted dwelling, we scarcely 
feel we are alone. The ghost of the dead days seems to 
be an ever-haunting presence there. Arlington House, in 
its isolated lonely state, stands there as a most melancholy 
monument to a lost cause. 

Outside, at the back of the house, are the kitchens, 
stables, and slave quarters — all empty now, dilapidated 
and falling fast to ruin, like ghastly skeleton homers, 
scarred with many memories, and mutely eloquent of the 
days that have been. On our way homeward we drove 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 289 

through the beautifully picturesque grounds of the " Sol- 
diers' Home," which consists of about five hundred acres, 
tastefully laid out in lawns, meadows, gardens, and lakes, 
and about seven miles of drives winding now by the lake 
side, or under the shady trees, or through the blooming 
" garden of roses." 

Our next visit was to the home of Washington, the 
founder and father of the Union. Mount Vernon is sit- 
uated about fifteen miles from Washington, down the 
Potomac river, passing through the pretty home scenery, 
and some highly interesting spots by the way. We have 
splendid views of the Arsenal grounds which run along 
the banks of the river, and the Government home for the 
insane, a magnificent building standing on elevated ground 
east of the city. Presently we pass Fort Foote and Fort 
Washington. Every rood of ground on either side of this 
lovely Potomac is marked by the footprints of the war, 
and is historied and enriched with its many memories. 
At length we reach Mount Vernon — a spot dear to Ameri- 
can hearts of every degree, however one man may differ 
from another in social, political, or sectarian matters. 
Whatever tumult may rack the State, or tear at the spirit 
of the Union, all unite in their reverence to this one no- 
ble dead. When the horrors of war ceased for an hour, 
thither came men from both armies, with hands red with 
their brothers' blood ; but here all was peace. The bitter 
enmity and hatred which convulsed the land was forgotten 
here ; and the men in blue and the men in gray stood side 
by side, bared their heads, and bent reverently as before 
a shrine, by the grave of the father of their country. 
13 



290 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

General Washington is laid to rest in the grounds of 
his own home ; we pass his tomb on our way to the house. 
Everything here is kept in perfect order ; the quaint gar- 
den, designed and laid out by Washington himself in the 
fashion of the old days, with odd-shaped beds, and thick 
box borders about a foot high, is filled with gay, sweet- 
scented, rather than rare, flowers ; on the lawn there are sev- 
eral trees, and a hoary old hedge four feet high, and four 
feet thick, all planted by the beloved General's own hand, 
nearly a hundred years ago ; and they are all green and 
flourishing, as though they meant to live another century 
at least. Here also is a superb magnolia tree, reared from 
a slip brought by the hand of Lafayette from St. Helena. 
The slave quarters, gardeners' cottages, laundries, stables, 
etc., are all ranged on the lawn at the back of the house. 
These are still occupied by coloured people, the direct 
descendants of those slaves who were raised on the place 
in the old days ; and they are as proud of their race, and 
their connection with the Washington family, as though 
they had descended from a Hne of kings. They are a 
very superior and obliging class of people, and provide an 
excellent lunch for visitors, at a very moderate price. 

Mount Vernon, though very beautifully situated, and 
surrounded by fine views, sloping away from all sides of 
it, is not so imposing an edifice as Arlington House. It 
is built of wood to imitate stone, and has a long, wide 
verandah running along the front. The rooms are small, 
with the exception of the banqueting hall, which, in com- 
parison with the rest, is a large, handsome apartment. 
Here are some fine old oil paintings, and portraits of 



BRICKS AND MORTAR. 29 1 

Washington and his family, with some few miscellaneous 
curiosities ; among them the key of the Bastile, presented 
by General Lafayette. 

So much loving reverence surrounds the name of 
" Washington," that every room in the house is named 
after a particular State, which holds it in special care. 
The rooms are all furnished after the fashion of the old 
time ; many still contain the Chippendale furniture that 
was used by the Washington family ; there is the Gen- 
eral's own escritoire, with its numerous pigeon-holes, and 
cunning secret drawers, the chair he sat in, and the bed he 
died on, in exactly the same position, and w^th the same 
coverlid and fast-fading hangings as when he left it. 
There is not a speck of dust to be seen anywhere. The 
house and grounds are the property of the Mount Vernon 
Ladies' Association, and everything is arranged and car- 
ried on under their personal supervision and care. Every 
relic having the remotest connection with General Wash- 
ington is gathered together here, and most carefully pre- 
served. A sweet scent of the old dead days lingers every- 
where ; even the roses that climb round the verandah 
have a perfume all their own — different, it seems, from 
other roses. As we retrace our steps through the quaint 
garden, down Washington's favourite path, between the 
thick box hedges, in our mind's eye (which sees so much 
more than mortal sight) we see him walking before us, in 
his cocked hat and periwig, with head bent down, and 
hands clasped behind him, exactly as, we are told, he 
used to walk there, to and fro, a hundred years ago. 





CHAPTER XXV. 

THE QUAKER CITY. 

Baltimore— Its Stony Streets — Druids' Park — A Stroll through the 
City — Aristocratic Quarters — Washington Monument — Philadel- 
phia — General Aspect — Picturesque Market Street — Fairmount 
Zoological Gardens, 

TWO hours' drive and we are at Baltimore, one 
of the busiest and brightest of Southern cities, 
with miles of streets running in all directions, 
in a state of labyrinthine uncertainty, as though they did 
not know which way to turn, or where to go next ; some 
are straight and wide, some narrow and crooked. The 
houses are of many colors ; they scorn to be bound to the 
common-place rules of mere bricks and mortar ; you may 
see a pink front blushing near a sombre gray, a creamy 
white or chocolate, picked out with amber, elbowing a 
bright blue, or olive-tinted green; the side-walks are paved 
with cherry-red tiles, and all this varied coloring, togeth- 
er with the quaint style of street architecture, gives the 
city a gay, picturesque appearance. 

The business thoroughfares are overflowing with the 
hurry and bustle of life, and at certain hours of the day 

292 



THE QUAKER CITY. 293 

the side-walks are crowded with a jostling multitude, fluc- 
tuating to and fro, while the roadways are alive with 
many-coloured cars, dashing hither and thither. It is 
pleasant enough riding on tramways, but you cannot en- 
joy the luxury of a private carriage — without running the 
risk of dislocation, at least ; for the roads are of the 
roughest cobble-stones. The vehicles, driven at reckless 
speed, lurch and plunge from side to side, and bump you 
up and down. You hold on to the sides breathlessly, 
feeling they 77iust topple over. But they don't ; they land 
you at your destination alive, though with splitting head 
and aching bones. You are disposed to patronize the 
humble cars in the future ; and the cars go everywhere, 
and one bright morning they landed us at Druids' Park. 

You enter through a lofty pair of handsome iron gates, 
into a wide avenue, flanked on either side by stone vases 
fifteen feet high, filled with evergreens in winter, and in 
summer with showy flowers. The Baltimore folk are very 
proud of their Druids' Park ; and well they may be, for 
it is a most lovely spot, consisting of about five hundred 
acres of land beautifully laid out, their natural attractions 
being supplemented, not overwhelmed, by art. There are 
clumps of grand old forest trees, grassy slopes, and shady 
dells, filled with evergreen shrubs, feathery ferns, and 
sweet wild flowers, and a silvery lake, winding like a glit- 
tering white serpent through a paradise of green. Groups 
of coloured folk, with their wives and rollicking little pic- 
caninnies, and young men with their swarthy sweethearts, 
all sprucely dressed in broadcloth and fine linen, with 
flowers in their button-holes, light-gloved, and patent- 



294 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

booted, their faces shining, as though they had been extra 
polished by Nixey's patent, are strolling under the trees, 
or sit chatting beneath their branches. The women, as a 
rule, wear less gaudy colours than their sisters at St. 
Louis, and altogether seem of a better-educated class. 

Any lady desiring to enjoy the luxury of shopping, 
should postpone that pleasure till she gets to Baltimore, 
where there are plenty of shops, well stocked, and well 
arranged with every possible kind of fancy articles, as 
well as the necessary articles for daily use, and at cer- 
tainly one-third less price than she would pay in most of 
the Eastern cities ; besides this advantage, she will be 
treated with respect and civility, which does not seem in- 
digenous to the nature of the American shopkeeper or his 
subordinates. 

The residential part of the city, viz.. Monument Square 
(and such-like fashionable localities), has a quiet, dull, 
deserted appearance, like a country town on Sundays 
when the shops are shut and the good folk are all at 
church, undergoing their spiritual ablutions. The houses 
in these aristocratic quarters of the city are more uniform 
and monotonous than the buisier portions, and yet there 
is a picturesqueness in the monotony of the long rows of 
tall brick houses, picked out with white, the white steps 
projecting on to the red-tiled pavement, while rows of 
green trees stretch their green arms before them. In 
every city throughout the United States statues of their 
beloved founder, George Washington, abound — some ex- 
ecrable, some well enough to look at ; but that which 
occupies the centre of Monument Square is a finely con- 



THE QUAKER CITY. 295 

ceived and splendidly executed piece of work. There is 
no exaggeration, no attempt at ornament or decoration 
about it — a tall, fluted column rises from a square stone 
platform, surmounted at the top by an effigy of General 
George Washington ; it is no theatrical figure of an im- 
possible athlete in an attitude of patriotic ardour or 
military devotion. He stands in the position of a simple 
gentleman, as he may have stood many times in the flesh, 
with folded arms, looking out over the city to Chese- 
peake, where the stars and stripes of the Union he 
founded are streaming now from scores of vessels in the 
beautiful bay. 

The hotel accommodation is comfortable enough, and 
no doubt answers all the requirements of the mercantile 
population who are constantly passing to and fro this 
busy trading city, for the river is filled with shipping from 
all parts of the world, and the wharves swarming with a 
working population, loading and unloading the vessels ; 
the visitor who runs down for a glimpse at these charac- 
teristic locahties gets bewildered in the tangled collection 
of cranks, cattle, and the surging mass of pushing, shout- 
ing humankind. The hotels are wanting in some of those 
luxurious arrangements to which the tourists through the 
great cities of America have grown so accustomed as to 
regard them as necessities. 

Our next point of attraction was Philadelphia, which 
delightful city we entered under most favourable auspices : 
the atmosphere was bright, warm, and cloudless. We 
caught our first glimpse of it from our car-windows, and 
beheld it afar off lying in the sunshine, its shining domes 



296 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

and cupolas outlined in the broad blue skies, and its 
myriad spires lifted lance-like in the air. On arriving 
there and first driving through the long, stately streets, 
we were struck by the number of magnificent buildings 
we passed on our route — marble fronts, marble columns, 
marble steps, marble everywhere. 

The city is clothed with architectural beauty on which- 
ever side you look. The public buildings, academies, 
churches, etc., are all, without exception, magnificent 
structures, some most striking from their grand simplicity, 
others from their varied and fanciful picturesqueness. 
Mr. Lippincott has published a guide to " Philadelphia 
and its Environs," profusely and beautifully illustrated 
with woodcuts of many important private dwellings 
and all the public buildings, the centennial erections in 
Fairmount Park, and some of the lovely scenery surround- 
ing it. When you have " done " the city, you will not 
throw aside your guide, but keep it as a pleasant refresher 
to your memory in after days. It is a pleasure to walk 
up and down the clean, pretty streets, with their quaint 
old houses. Every window has an outside protection 
from the summer sun ; some have the thick wooden 
shutters rarely seen in these days, others have green 
Venetians, which make you feel you are in a semi-tropical 
region. 

The streets running one way across the town are named 
after different trees, which at one time were supposed to 
have flourished on their site — such as '' Chestnut," 
*' Pine," " Spruce," "Filbert," etc.; those running in an 
opposite direction are simply numbered on the same plan 



THE QUAKER CITY. 297 

as that followed in New York. Market Street, one of the 
great trading thoroughfares, runs straight across the city 
from one river to the other ; it is a splendid street, a 
hundred feet wide. In Penn's time this was the High 
Street of the city. Some of the. houses have gaily striped 
awnings, stretching across to the roadway ; some have 
flags or banners flying, and adopt other fanciful means of 
calling attention to their special attractions. A full- 
length figure of Pocahontas, or some other savage celeb- 
rity, generally stands at the door of the retail tobacco- 
nists, offering a pinch of snuff to the passer-by. An 
eagle spreads its wings over one Art Gallery, while a lion 
in a cocked hat paws the air on the opposite side. 
Altogether, the streets have always a gay, festive appear- 
ance. 

The great thoroughfares are crowded with pedestrians 
and vehicles of all description. Wholesale and retail 
trading we know is being briskly carried on ; but there is 
no skurry or confusion anywhere, no pushing and jost- 
ling ; the living stream flows evenly to and fro ; business 
seems to be conducting itself in a quiet, orderly fashion. 
Taken altogether, Philadelphia is a sedate city ; there is 
an air of severe respectability and old-world solidity 
about it ; we fear it would take a great deal to stir its sub- 
stantial self-possession. It Hes between the Delaware 
and Schuylkill rivers, and covers an area of great extent ; 
it is nearly double the size of New York, with a popula- 
tion considerably less. There are no overcrowded quar- 
ters here, no narrow courts or gloomy alleys, no tall 
tenement houses, like rabbit warrens, swarming with 
13* 



298 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

human creatures, sheltering hundreds within its reeking, 
dilapidated walls, where there is scarcely room for a score 
to live and breathe in. Everywhere in Philadelphia there 
is room " to turn round in, to breathe, and be free." 

No grim poverty parades the streets, no sickly faces 
turn to the wall, no wolf-eyed hunger lurks in corners ; 
the working population looks healthy, strong, and self- 
respecting, free from that communistic element which is 
agitating the far Western cities. Every man, from the 
lowest rung in the ladder, can rear his family in a home 
of his own if he pleases ; rent is cheap, and the smallest 
cottage has its bath-room, wash-house, and patch of 
garden-ground. The city is confined within no limits ; it 
has overflowed the river on either side, where there is 
plenty of room for it to stretch its limbs and grow, as it 
has grown, with its beautiful suburban branches, Kensing- 
ton, Southwark, Germantown, etc. It is growing still ; 
elegant villas, substantial squares, and meandering streets 
are springing up as fast as they can, clinging to the skirts 
of the great city, which is like a monstrous body, with 
arms as long as a gigantic octopus, reaching away on all 
sides, seizing all it can, or like a loadstone attracting all 
to itself. 

Philadelphia is rich, too, in historical associations, and 
has preserved many interesting relics of the old times ; 
for a century acquires the dignity of age in the New 
World, and anything that is hundred years old is con- 
sidered worthy of a pilgrimage. Penn's cottage, occupied 
by him in 1701, is still extant ; so far it has escaped the 
improving mania which swept so many of the old land- 



THE QUAKER CITY. 299 

marks away. It is a small, unpretentious brick building, 
two storeys high, situated in Letitia Street, near the mar- 
ket, and quite overshadowed by the fine buildings wliich 
have sprung up round it. Indeed, many of the old inter- 
esting homes of the earlier settlers have wholly disap- 
peared ; others are elbowed away out of sight, to make 
way for the elegant villas and marble palaces of the 
present generation of wealthy Philadelphians, who form a 
nucleus of the most refined and cultivated society to be 
found in any quarter of the world. The oldest inhabi- 
tants of the State have still their representatives in Penn- 
sylvania, though they congregate mostly in the city. 
Thither, in early days, came wandering branches from 
some of the best families in the old countries, and their 
descendants still occupy the land. We recognize a kin- 
dred spirit as we walk through the public streets, and feel 
the fascination of the Old World mingling with the vig- 
orous strength of the New. 

Philadelphia has not the cosmopolitan character of New 
York, and consequently does not present such varied fluc- 
tuating phases of life. It is a sedate matronly city, with 
nothing fast or frivolous about it, and its inhabitants up- 
hold its dignity in a manner worthy of themselves. The 
most beautifully picturesque scenery lies round the immed- 
iate neighbourhood ; few cities contain so many attractions 
within their grasp. The views on the winding Wissahic- 
kon are especially lovely, with a warm glow and romantic 
loveliness which makes one inclined to " linger long sum- 
mer days " beside its banks.- But Fairmount Park is, 
however, Philadelphia's greatest pride ; its position and 



300 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

its natural beauties are indeed unsurpassed. Lying along 
the loveliest part of the Schuylkill river, it occupies three 
thousand acres of land, and is one of the most extensive 
parks known, being three times larger than the Grand 
Central Park, New York — and that, with its twelve miles 
of driving roads, strikes every one with surprise ; but 
Fairmount has double that space set apart for driving and 
riding exercise. 

At certain hours of the day the streams of handsome 
equipages and regiments of fair equestrians, driving and 
riding along the wide curving road by the river, presents a 
kaleidoscopic scene of great brilliancy ; it is like a living 
panorama, which breaks up and fades like a dissolving 
view, as one by one they turn out of the main drive. 
Some disappear in groves of shady trees, or are lost among 
the romantic hills or pleasant winding ways which lead, 
between banks of blooming flowers, to the more secluded 
parts of the ground. But to thoroughly enjoy and appre- 
ciate the beauties of Fairmount Park, you must go on foot, 
ramble among its leafy dells and sunny slopes, its placid 
lakes hidden away in the heart of the woodlands, amid the 
tangled masses of a luxuriant growth of green, lichen- 
covered boulders and moss-grown banks, left to flourish 
in their natural wilfulness and beauty. Magnificent foun- 
tains have been erected in different parts of the ground, 
and marble monuments to deceased statesmen, philanthro- 
pists, and heroes are gleaming white on every side. 
That to Abraham Lincoln is perhaps the finest of them 
all. 

In no country in the world are there such extensive and 



THE QUAKER CITY. 3OI 

delightful public parks and pleasure-grounds as in Amer- 
ica. Nature, in most cases, has laid so much material 
ready to hand — rocks, hills, wilderness, forest land, and 
rivers. Art has but to wave her magic wand, clear away 
or reject all she does not require, and utilize and lay out 
the rest according to her tasteful pleasure. Thus, many 
of the primeval forest trees, rocky mounds, and sparkling 
rivers of the dead ages beautify the recreation grounds of 
to-day. The Zoological Gardens, lying along the opposite 
bank of the river, promise to be second to none ; they 
occupy a vast extent of beautifully laid out ground, and the 
different buildings already erected there are architecturally 
pleasant to the eye, and at the same time those best suited 
to the requirem.ents, and for the exhibition of the remark- 
ably fine collection of animals gathered therein. The 
society has agents in all parts of the world, being resolved 
to spare neither pains, labour, nor expense in their endeav- 
our to make their collection the most perfect of its kind 
in all the civilized world. 




CHAPTER XXVI. 

SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 

A New York Summer — How they meet it — Airy Customs — Coney 
Island — Rockaway and Long Branch — A Mountain Village — 
Ellenville — ^View from " Sam's Point." 




HILADELPHIA to New York is a pleasant 
three hours' journey, and we were glad to find 
ourselves settled down for a few weeks' rest in 
the " Empire City " — if rest can be obtained in that elec- 
tric atmosphere, which quickens the pulse and fills you with 
its own restless life, whether you will or no. We arrived 
there in the middle of May. The season was over, their 
fashionable season being the reverse of ours, for their 
gaieties are at their full flood-tide during the winter 
months, when ours are ended — if such things ever do 
come to an end in a great city, but it seems to me that the 
general mass build up a tolerable palace of pleasure out of 
the debris the fashionable world leaves behind it. 

Our friends, the few who remained in Gotham to battle 
with the fierce summer sun, regretted that we had come 
back at the dead season ; but they managed to make it 
lively enough. What with excursions on the water, picnics 

302 



SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 303 

on land, theatres, and social gatherings at home, the 
time passed only too quickly. The days were too short ; 
if we could lengthen them as we do our skirts, by adding 
a flouncing of a few hours, we should have had engage- 
ments enough to fill them. The weather was unusually 
warm for May, the thermometer sometimes rising as high 
as 90° in the shade. 

As the weeks passed on, the temperature became almost 
unendurable. The coolest place in all New York was the 
Madison Square Theatre. The thermometer had mounted 
to 100° when we received a box for an afternoon miscel- 
laneous performance in aid of the Edgar Poe Memorial 
Statue. Among the many other things selected for the 
occasion was an abridged version of " The Taming of the 
Shrew," when Edwin Booth consented to play Petruchio. 
Nothing less than a desire to see this celebrated actor 
would ha^.-e. tempted us to stir. The sun, like a ball of 
burnished copper, filled the skies with a heat-created mist, 
and poured upon the earth a fiery atmosphere that seemed 
to burn as it touched you, and the very breeze might have 
issued from the mouth of a furnace ; but we gathered our- 
selves together — all that was left of us, for we were grad- 
ually melting away — and, armed with fans, smelling-salts 
and sundry antidotes to fainting fits, panted our way from 
Forty-fifth Street to a Sixth Avenue car, which landed us 
close to the theatre. Immediately on entering, we felt as 
though w,Q had left the hot world to scorch and dry up 
outside, while we were enjoying a soft summer breeze 
within. Where did it come from ? The house was 
crowded — there was not standing-room for a broom-stick ; 



304 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

but the air was as cool and refreshing as though it had 
blown over a bank of spring violets. We learned the 
reason of this. By some simple contrivance the outer air, 
circulating through and among tons of ice, is forced to 
find its way through a thousand frozen cracks and crevices 
before it enters the auditorium ; thus a flow of fresh air is 
kept in constant circulation, which renders an afternoon 
in Madison Square Theatre a luxury during the hottest of 
dog-days. 

The death roll is terrible during these hot spells, some- 
times amounting from sun-stroke alone to twenty in a 
single day. The New Yorkers, however, know how to 
make the best of their semi-tropical summer. The more 
sensible portion of the masculine population go about in 
their linen suits and panama hats, though some men cling 
to their beloved chimney-pot and swelter under a weight 
of broadcloth ; but no man is above carrying an umbrella, 
white, green, or brown, as the case may be. Rivers of 
iced lemonade are flowing at the street corners, at two 
cents per glass. You may see a multitude closing round 
and pouring in and out of the " drug stores'" (chemist's 
shops). You think there must have been an accident — 
somebody run over, somebody killed. No such thing ; it 
is only the more aristocratic thirsty multitude, who eschew 
street corners, crowding in for their iced drinks. The 
" drug stores " have, every one, a neat white marble foun- 
tain, with a dozen shining silver taps, which pour forth 
streams of fruit- flavoured iced drinks — pine, cherry, straw- 
berry, raspberry, and lemon cream soda, the most delicious 
of all. From early morning till late in the evening these 



SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 305 

fountains never cease playing ; small fortunes pour from 
their silver mouths into the pockets of their owners. 

In the summer evenings the whole indoor population of 
New York seems to overflow on to the " stoops " of their 
house. Walking through some of the best streets, you 
may glance in at the open windows, and see the elegantly 
furnished vacant rooms, with their luxurious lounges, paint- 
ings, mirrors, and gilded magnificence, mellowed in the low- 
burning gaslight, v/hile the inhabitants are taking the air on 
their doorsteps. The white moon, shining down on the yel- 
low gas-lighted streets ; the elevated railroad, rushing with 
its living freight through the air, blinking its green-and-red 
fiery eyes upon the world below ; the tall dark houses, 
with their dimly lighted, luxurious interiors and family 
groups, from paterfamilias down to the youngest-born, the 
ladies, in their pretty, fanciful toilettes, taking the air on 
the doorsteps ; — all combine to form a pretty picture, quite 
like a theatrical scene on the broad stage of life. Rippling 
waves of low laughter and scraps of musical chit-chat fol- 
low you as you pass along. This is an old knickerbocker 
custom, which still obtains everywhere except on the sacred 
Fifth Avenue, which confines itself strictly within doors, 
shrined from the vulgar gaze ; perhaps the nouveau riche 
element (being largely represented) is afraid of compro- 
mising its dignity by following old-fashioned customs. 

As the weeks passed on the weather became more and 
more trying, and we made daily excursions to the numer- 
ous watering-places immediately surrounding New York, 
leaving home early in the morning and returning the same 
evening, which is easily done. Coney Island, one of the 



306 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

great resorts for the million, is reached from the foot of 
Twenty-third Street in about an hour. A few years ago 
it was a mere wide waste of sand, and was bought by a 
clever speculator for a mere song ; it is now worth millions 
of dollars, and is covered on all sides with a miscellaneous 
mass of buildings of all descriptions. Restaurants, shoot- 
ing galleries, pavilions, and refreshment-rooms to suit all 
classes, and some monster hotels, of light, airy structure, 
lift their faces towards the sea. Culver, Brighton, and 
Manhattan Beaches, the one being a continuation of the 
other, spread their wide stretch of silver sand along the 
side of the island and down to the blue Atlantic waves 
below. There are no pleasant walks or drives, there exists 
not a tree, there is no shade from the fierce, blinding sun 
to be found anywhere. No gray rocks or picturesque bat- 
tlemented cliffs ; nothing but the level island, with its 
wide stretch of silver sand and a world of sea. The hotels 
are crowded, every nook and corner of the island filled 
to overflowing during the season ; the beach is covered 
with a lively mass of holiday-makers, all bent on enjoying 
themselves ; gay bunting is flaunting and flying every- 
where ; musicians are hard at work, beating drums, scrap- 
ing fiddles, and blowing trumpets, as though their very 
lives depended on the noise they are making. Altogether, 
it is a gay, stirring scene. Coney Island is not a place 
where the fashionable or aristocratic multitude most do 
congregate ; it is a rather fast, jolly, rollicking place, and 
serves its purpose well, as the health-breathing lungs of a 
great city, 

Rockaway Beach is about half an hour's journey off. 



SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 307 

and is disposed to set up a race of rivalry with Coney 
Island. Its general aspect is much the same — flat, level 
land, and sand, and sea ; it is less frequented, less gay, 
and certainly has not such good accommodation ; but a 
very fine hotel is now in course of erection, which promises 
very superior accommodation to visitors. Rockaway is 
scarcely as flat and barren as Coney Island ; in its imme- 
diate vicinity clumps of trees are making praiseworthy 
efforts to grow, but at present their long, gaunt branches 
are sparsely covered with green. Long Branch and Long 
Island are both of easy access from the upper part of the 
city, by ferry and rail ; they are equally favourite water- 
ing-places with those already mentioned, though of a rather 
different character ; they do not depend for popularity on 
a floating population, being the resort (Long Branch espe- 
cially so) of the more fashionable public. There are 
whole legions of hotels, and squadrons of boarding-houses, 
together with numerous elegant villas or cottage residences, 
which are let by the season to such as prefer the freedom 
of their own household to establishing themselves in an 
hotel. Many build their own fanciful dwellings, and mi- 
grate thither in early summer, and remain till the chill 
autumn breezes drive them back to the city ; others make 
it their head-quarters, and reside there all the year round. 
Long Branch is a delightful place. You can choose 
your companionship, and join the coteries of pleasant 
society, and have as much gaiety or as much social seclu- 
sion as you please. Some of the first-class hotels, which 
are largely patronized by transient travellers, have been 
erected on the low bluff which rises behind the strip of 



308 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

sandy beach. A fine wide avenue runs between them and 
the sea. They are none of them grand, imposing-looking 
buildings, and have no pretensions to architectural beauty, 
being for the most part long, low, frame-houses, with wide 
verandahs and balconies running wherever it is possible 
for verandah or balcony to go. Smooth-shaven, well-kept 
lawns run along the front, where there is a delightful 
promenade extending for nearly two miles, overlooking 
the sea. Orchestral music of the best description is pro- 
vided for the amusement of the guests ; everything is 
arranged for the enjoyment of people of refined, culti- 
vated taste. Ocean Avenue is the fashionable promenade, 
which at certain hours of the day is crowded with elegant 
equipages of every description ; from the bachelor in his 
*' sulky," to the light landau, filled with pretty, tastefully 
dressed women, who change their toilettes half a dozen 
times in the day, and do a great deal of dancing and flirt- 
ing in the evening — too much, perhaps, for their own 
good. 

Those who prefer soft inland scenery, and mountain 
air, to the keen, invigorating sea-breezes, may gratify their 
taste in any of the many beautiful rural districts which 
surround New York. There names are legion, but one of 
the sweetest and loveliest of them all is Ellenville, which 
lies in the heart of the *' Shewangunk Mountains." It is 
a mere mountain village, pretty, and picturesque in the 
extreme. There being only one small hotel in the place, 
it does not lay itself out for visitors, but is very glad to 
see them when they come. The narrow, winding high 
street of the village is a picture in itself. Tiny toy-cot- 



SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 309 

tages lie in the midst of their little gardens, where cab- 
bages and sunflowers, gooseberry bushes, dahlias, and 
wild-rose trees grow together in sweet companionship. 
Some break out into shop-windows, and your " butcher 
and baker and candlestick- maker " show forth from a 
bower of green, or hide themselves beneath luxuriant 
grape-vines, where you would least expect to find them. 

There are some elegant villa residences nestling among 
tall trees, and broken rows of less pretentious, but equally 
pretty dwelHngs standing in their own grounds of bloom- 
ing flowers, and peach and apple trees, with wide verandahs, 
where the ladies sit in their rocking-chairs and work, or 
lie in a hammock indulging in dole e far niente^ amid the 
drowsy hum of bees, and perfume of flowers, reading 
or dreaming through the sultry noontide. Planted on 
either side of these rustic lane- like streets, are rows of tall, 
wide- spreading chestnut trees, whose thick umbrageous 
branches form a perfect shade. There are several ex- 
cellent boarding-houses, and some private families, who 
are happy to receive temporary residents when they come 
with friendly recommendations. We were received by 
two charming young orphan ladies, who made their house 
a most idyllic home for us during our too brief stay. 

The artist world is beginning to penetrate the seclusion 
of this beautiful valley, lying so peacefully within its green 
girdle of mountains, and are making rapid acquaintance 
with its varied scenery, which holds so many tempting pic- 
tures ready grouped for their brush and canvas. There are 
hills and river, green ferny dells, deep ravines cut in the 
steep mountain-sides, and rocky chasms, whose mysteries 



310 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

are still unexplored. Here and there you come upon 
some of the loveliest nooks in all creation, full of won- 
drous lights and shadows — so still and peaceful, you feel 
inclined to lie down with folded hands and be at rest : 
you could sleep so soundly there, hidden away from all 
the world, until the judgment day. 

It was decided among us that " Sam's Point," a lofty 
peak of the Shewangunk, must be visited. We started 
one bright morning by a narrow winding road which is 
carried along the face of the mountain, climbing upwards 
through tangled brushwood, past banks of flowering 
laurel, their shining leaves half hidden by their luxuri- 
ant masses of delicate pink and white blossoms ; up, still 
up, through forests of pine and fir, over broken masses of 
lichen-covered boulders, with fantastic rocks looming on 
every side, and on over sloping stretches of breezy up- 
lands, till we came to a strip of table-land. The horses 
pricked up their ears and put on a " spurt." Poor, tired 
brutes ! they had travelled that road often enough, and 
could find their way to the low-lying shanty, where they 
know they are to be stabled for the next hour or two, 
without any of our guidance. At this- stage of our jour- 
ney we came in close view of " Sam's Point," standing out 
in clear-cut lines against the sky. 

Here, according to the general custom, we unpacked 
our luncheon-basket. It was filled with such good things, 
and so many of them, we hardly knew which to begin 
first. We spread our feast under the shadow of a belt 
of dark trees, the last of their line that can lift their heads 
and grow on the now barren, flinty soil. With much fun 



SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 31I 

and laughter we got through a luxurious meal ; then our 
general commanding for the season insisted that we must 
climb to the very top of " Sam's Point." We obey, and 
start on a scrambling expedition up the sloping stony 
path, where straggling thorny bushes caught us viciously 
at every turn. With the hot sun blazing fiercely upon us, 
and a high, warm wind almost blowing us off our feet, 
we struggled on to the top. No, not quite the top : we 
halted on a rocky platform, just below the extreme point, 
and looked down from its dizzy, precipitous height upon 
the lovely landscape below, lying in the peaceful smile 
of a glorious sunshine, rolling and spreading out hun- 
dreds of feet below, as far as the eye can see. Dark belts 
of forest trees outline the distant horizon, thickets and 
wild woods sweep down through the hilly defiles, reach 
out their green arms, and run like a fancy network of 
nature's cunningest pattern over the valleys, while the sil- 
ver thread of a river runs round and about, lacing the 
green meadow lands together. Scores of white villages, 
dwarfed by distance till they look like collections of dolls' 
houses, are scattered over the plains or cling to the slop- 
ing hillsides. The colouring, and the lights and shadows 
falling everywhere, give an additional charm to the ex- 
quisite picture before us. It holds us like a magnet ; we 
cannot tear ourselves away from it ; we perch ourselves 
on the narrow parapet and gaze our fill. There is a mel- 
lowness and balm in the atmosphere, and slowly a soft 
pink mist falls over the landscape like a bridal veil, and 
covers everything with a tender mystery. 

We turn and scramble down the stony path, and are 



312 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

soon winding our way down the mountain road home- 
ward, still feasting our eyes with delicious bits of scenery 
as v/e go along. We drive round among the foothills to 
get a view of the Nopanoc falls, which are only about 
half an hour from Ellenville. They are not grand or 
imposing, nor do they fall from any visible height, but 
they are beautiful from their wild surroundings, and come 
creaming and foaming down the rugged mountain-sides, 
till they reach the stony bed below, and flow on beneath 
our feet to their far-off watery home ; they seem arranged 
by nature for transfer to an artist's canvas. Tired though 
we were with our long day's outing, we enjoyed our home- 
ward drive through the evening shadows. There was no 
moon, and the dusky air was full of fireflies, floating 
about like globes of living light ; and the "whip-poor- 
will" commenced his melancholy plaint, which he never 
utters till the day is done. The bird came to his curious 
cognomen something in this wise. A benighted sinner 
commonly called *' Poor Will " was stumbling home late 
one night when the bird began to sing, and to his mud- 
dled ears the notes arranged themselves into the words, 
*' Whip poor Will." He knew he deserved whipping, and 
believed that an order for his future castigation was being 
despatched through some mysterious agency to the realms 
above. Thenceforth, whipped by the stings of an awak- 
ened conscience, he set to and repented as hard as he had 
sinned, and the name stuck to the bird ever afterwards. 

The " whip-poor-Avill's " notes had hardly died away, 
when the frogs, huge green goggle-eyed monsters, com- 
menced their croaking concert, which is by no means an 



SUMMER AMONG THE GOTHAMITES. 313 

unpleasant thing to listen to; it goes with a rather" 
musical, monotonous swing, quite different from the harsh 
croak of their froggy brethren on our side of the water. 

The next morning we returned to New York, to rest 
one more night, our last, in that city previous to our visit 
to Boston. We left Ellenville with much regret. I know 
of no place where one could so delightfully dream away 
the long summer days, as in that rural little village with 
its tempting and delightful surrounding. It is reached by 
the Erie Railway from Jersey City, and is about four 
hours' journey from New York. 
14 




CHAPTER XXVII. 



THE AMERICAN ATHENS. 



Aboard the Massachusetts — A Perambulation — The Electric Ma- 
chine — An Easy Way of committing Suicide — Boston — The Cars 
— The Common — The "Glorious Fourth of July." 




HERE had been so many terrible accidents by 
the river steamers during the last few weeks, 
that we were half inclined to go to Boston by 
rail ; but on reflection we determined not to yield to an 
imaginary evil. Judging by averages, we ought to have 
a safe passage, for one of the finest vessels had been de- 
stroyed by fire only two days before, and great disasters 
are rarely continuous. Because misfortune had happened 
to other people, it was no reason it should tread upon our 
heels also. 

Accordingly, we started on one of the finest Providence 
boats, the Massachusetts^ for Boston, leaving New York at 
five o'clock in the afternoon. We spent the few remain- 
ing hours of daylight in admiring the river scenery, as our 
majestic boat steamed towards the Sound, and enjoying 
the brisk sea-breezes. Never had the " briny kisses " of 
the great sweet mother seemed so fresh and invigorating. 
The captain, to whom we had been previously introduced, 
invited us into the wheelhouse, which, contrary to our 

314 



THE "AMERICAN ATHENS." 315 

home custom, is lifted high up above the deck, command- 
ing a clear view of all surrounding objects. There we 
watched with great interest the steering and working of 
the vessel. The bell seemed always to be ringing its 
signal, warning the small craft out of our way, and in- 
forming the larger craft which way we would " keep her 
head." 

Afterwards we descended into the engine-room, and 
found the huge monster well worth seeing — its black body 
bound in bright bands, and studded with polished deco- 
rations of brass and steel, like a grim warrior wearing his 
coat of mail. We saw him fed with his vast furnace fires. 
He seemed always hungry, opening his red mouth for 
more food. We watched its gigantic walking beam rise 
and fall, in its solemn march across the world of waters. 
The vessel in all parts is lighted by electricity ; and we 
were allowed to go downstairs to inspect the generating 
apparatus. In order to reach it we had to go through the 
machinery-room, where the crashing, groaning, and thud- 
ding, the rapid whirling of wheels, and clanking to and 
fro of countless bars, and the up-and-down stroke of the 
piston, deafened our ears, dazzled our eyes, and bewil- 
dered our senses, while the walking beam above, the great 
propelling power of all, tramped steadily on. 

We passed through this distracting place, crossed a nar- 
row passage, and at the end of it found ourselves in an 
empty room — empty except for the electric machine, with 
its invisible wonders working before our eyes. We could 
not absolutely see the machine ; its evolutions were so 
rapid, they might have been impelled by lightning. It 



3l6 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

was surrounded by scintillating sparks of weird gree^iish 
light, playing round it as though some fiery genie was con- 
fined therein. There was not much noise, only a whiz- 
zing, whirring sound, and the ground shook beneath our 
feet with a quivering motion like a living thing in mortal 
pain. Radiating from the machine were sundry thin 
wires, each conducting the illuminating power to the 
decks and saloons, both above and below. Two wires 
ran perpendicularly one on each side of the apparatus, 
one conducting the negative, the other the positive cur- 
rent. Each one might be handled singly with impunity, 
but a simultaneous touch of the two together would be 
fraught with instant death. This easy mode of commit- 
ting suicide lay within reach of our hands. We shuddered, 
and beat a hasty retreat, lest a sudden impulse might 
tempt us to try the experiment. How many unintentional 
suicides have been hurried into eternity by the uncontrol- 
lable impulse of a moment ! 

About seven o'clock a capital dinner, h la carte, was 
served, and we had the double delight of enjoying a 
dainty meal, and watching the sunset from the saloon 
windows. There was no gorgeous colouring such as 
sometimes clothes the western skies with the barbaric 
splendour of crimson, amethyst, green, and gold ; but the 
whole hemisphere where the sun went down was filled 
with floating islands of golden light, sailing hither and 
thither in the face of the pale-blue sky. But soon came 
the twilight, trailing her dusky skirts between land and 
sea, and shut the heavens from our sight. 

After dinner we went on deck, but there was nothing 



THE ''AMERICAN ATHENS. 317 

to tempt us to stay there. It was a cool gray evening ; 
there was no moon, and not a star was visible ; we there- 
fore went into the grand saloon, which is gorgeously up- 
holstered in crimson velvet, and decorated with much 
carving and gilding, while mirrors and looking-glasses re- 
flect and multiply you by dozens on every side. A piano 
stood at the farther- end, and there was already a man in 
possession. He was short, he was fat, he was bald, and 
wore an immense pair of green goggles, such as are rarely 
worn except when crossing the ice. He looked as stupid 
and stolid as an animated jelly-fish, and knew as little 
about music as an oyster ; but he sang, out of tune and 
out of time, the most lugubrious ditties. He enjoyed 
them if nobody else did. When he got to the end of one, 
he began another. He might have seen the expression of 
disgust on everybody's face, but he was self-absorbed, he 
never looked ; if any one attempted to talk within earshot, 
he glared round reproachfully and sang louder than be- 
fore. It is strange, but painfully true : it is precisely 
those people who can neither play nor sing who attempt 
to do both for the torture of their fellow-passengers on 
those river excursions, and perhaps on some other occa- 
sions. 

We were driven to our state-room early, and the first 
thing that met our sight was a huge pair of ominous-look- 
ing life-preservers. We tried them on, saw that they fit- 
ted and fastened correctly, then leisurely proceeded to 
plait our hair in long pigtails for the convenience of our 
escort, so that, in case of accidents, he might float us 
easily. We had passed the wrecked remains of the Sea- 



3l8 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

wanhaka an hour before : it had been destroyed by fire, 
and scores of its passengers had met their death within 
fifty yards of the shore. These river boats are splendid 
to look at, luxurious to travel in, but if a fire once seizes 
on any part of the vessel, being made of wood, it burns 
like a matchbox ; there is no hope for it. There was 
nothing left of the unfortunate Seawanhaka but the huge 
boiler and a few ribs of iron, lying like a mutilated skele- 
ton on the shore. It was not a pleasant picture to possess 
our mind the last thing at night ; but we went to bed, and, 
strange to say, slept soundly enough until six o'clock in 
the morning, when we were served with a comfortable 
breakfast, and left the boat at Providence, where the train 
was waiting, and in about an hour we reached Boston. 

It was one of the loveliest of summer mornings. A 
kind of spiritual sunshine lay upon the silent land as we 
drove through the empty streets, for at that early hour 
few people were astir. We felt as though we were enter- 
ing some solemn cathedral town of the Old World ; every- 
thing is so different from any other American city which 
we have lately been passing through. There are no long, 
straight streets, no lines of tall stone houses, whose same- 
ness wearies the sight ; no dull monotony here. The 
streets are labyrinthine , they radiate from all sides and 
cross at all angles ; they run up and down, round cor- 
ners, curving or straight, wide or narrow. There is no 
irritating uniformity anywhere. 

From the first glance we feel that this city has a char- 
acter of its own, and that character is essentially Enghsh. 
There is a certain undefinable something in the general 



I 



THE "AMERICAN ATHENS." 319 

aspect of the place and of the people which makes us feel 
near home. Familiar names greet us at street corners, 
their nomenclature being similar to our own. No tubs of 
household refuse stand on the side-walks, or flow over 
into the gutter. The streets are beautifully clean ; it is a 
pleasure to walk in them. Beacon Street, which is one of 
the most fashionable localities, reminds us forcibly of 
Park Lane ; in fact, it is Park Lane, in miniature, seen 
through the wrong end of a telescope. The houses are 
all in good taste, though of different sizes and varied 
forms of architecture. Some have old-fashioned bay win- 
dows, others are flat fronted, some of white or gray stone, 
some of cherry-red bricks. One has its balcony and win- 
dow-sills filled with bright-hued and sweet-smelling flow- 
ers ; another is literally covered with Wisteria, all abloom 
with rich purple blossoms. It is the pretty floral decora- 
tions and varied style of building which gives it so quaint 
and picturesque an appearance. It stands on gently ris- 
ing ground. At the top is the State House, a very hand- 
some colonnaded building, crowned with a huge bronze 
cupola shining like burnished gold, dominating the land- 
scape and visible for miles round. 

In front, railed in with light elegant railings, and run- 
ning the whole length of Beacon Street, is the " Common," 
as the Bostonians modestly call it, though it is in reality 
a very beautiful park ; but a park without carriage drives, 
devoted entirely to pedestrian exercise. There is a fine 
growth of forest trees, which for centuries cannot have had 
an axe among them. There are fountains, too, and 
flower-gardens, and comfortable seats arranged under the 



320 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

umbrageous shade of the spreading walnut trees. On one 
mound of elevated ground is a handsome memorial in 
honour of their dead ancestors ; in another part of the 
common, on a greater elevation, stands an equestrian 
statue of General Washington. No city is complete with- 
out a statue of the founder of the United States. The 
common is a delightful rural promenade and pleasure- 
ground, and when the band is playing presents a most 
brilliant and imposing scene. 

The absence of the tobacco-chewing process and its 
disgusting results is another striking feature in Boston. 
You may walk through the public streets or ride in the 
cars the whole day long without once being subject to 
the nuisance to which we ought to have become accus- 
tomed. In the streets, on the cars, or among the people, 
you recognize a familiar Old-World look, and signs of re- 
finement and cultivation everywhere. Even a Boston 
crowd is a well-behaved, orderly gathering. We were 
there on the 4th of July. In the morning, escorted by a 
friend whose name will remain ever green in our memory, 
we went to an entertainment at the grand opera-house, 
which we imagined would partake of a national character. 
We expected to hear martial music and the national airs 
sung with the enthusiasm of a people who " exulted to be 
free ; " but we didn't. The concert was confined to a few 
everyday melodies — " The Old Folks at Home " and 
"Annie Laurie" — all well enough in their way, but 
hardly suited to such an occasion as the "glorious 
fourth." Then, for the first time in our lives, we heard 
the " Act of Independence " read, with great emphasis 



THE "AMERICAN ATHENS.'* 32 1 

and distinctness. We felt we ought to have bkished — 
but didn't. 

In the evening there was a grand display of fireworks, 
an open air orchestral concert, and other amusements. 
The people swarmed upon the common by hundreds and 
thousands of all classes, all degrees. There were no "re- 
served seats," and no possibility of enjoying any part of 
the festivity in "luxurious ease." Anybody who wished 
to see or enjoy anything must go on foot. It is this tem- 
porary incorporation of the refined with the rougher ele- 
ments of humanity which makes an American crowd 
different from any other. There is no pushing, no horse- 
play, no practical joking ; nobody hustles or tramples on 
you. It is essentially a polite crowd. Of course we 
never got into one from choice, but sometimes from 
necessity found ourselves in the midst of it, and every- 
where, in other cities besides Boston, found the same 
orderly behaviour. 

On the evening of the " glorious fourth " we went out, 
with a pleasant titillation of curiosity, mingled with a 
nervous notion that brickbats might be flying or squibs 
and crackers be fizzing about too freely, or, perhaps, 
some little patriotic pleasantry awkwardly demonstrated. 

An American visiting in England had said on a previous 
*' fourth," " Ah ! in my country every man will be glori- 
ously drunk to-night ; not a single one will go sober to 
bed." This perhaps coloured our ideas of the " glorious 
fourth ; " whereas it might have been the fourth of any 
other month. The concerts which took place on different 
parts of the common were by no means of a patriotic or 
14* 



322 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

exhilarating nature. The orchestras were excellent, the 
music well played, but ill chosen ; that is, ill chosen for 
such an occasion. It was chiefly classical. Occasionally 
it pranced off into a waltz, and encouraged the idea of 
frivolity for a moment, but was speedily recalled under 
cover of the big drum, and a more select fugue or fantasia 
took its place. Classical music is not fitting for an open- 
air promenade, when nobody's attention can be wholly 
absorbed by it, as should be the case when good music is 
being played. Fancy a running fire of chit-chat, or can- 
nonade of laughter being carried on, while the solemn 
strains of Handel, the subtle harmonies of Beethoven, or 
sweet melodies of Joseph Haydn are filling the air ! 
Merry catching tunes or patriotic airs are best suited to 
these occasions, but never the ghost of one was abroad 
that night. John Brown's soul might have marched to 
the end of his journey, and lain down to undisturbed 
rest ; there was no one to " rally round the flag," shout- 
ing the battle-cry of freedom. The star-spangled 
banner was folded away out of sight, but the stars and 
stripes fluttered faintly from a few windows, and that 
was all. 

The fireworks crackled and fizzed, while the multitude 
looked solemnly on. Roman candles burnt blue, showers 
of golden light were falling, Catherine wheels were whirl- 
ing in circles of brilliant colours, fantastic designs, and 
fine set pieces blazed on all sides. We made our bow to 
an illuminated President, and watched the American 
eagle light himself up with a golden body, bright green 
wings, and ruby claws, big enough to clutch the world by 



THE "AMERICAN ATHENS. 323 

the throat. He was a gorgeous bird, and dazzled our 
sight for a few moments, and then faded from it. We 
went home to bed with a virtuous feeHiig that we had 
assisted at the celebration of the " glorious fourth." 

The arrangements for street traffic in Boston are as 
nearly perfect as they can be. Cars are running every- 
where every minute of the day. Most comfortable cars 
they are — a great improvement upon any similar convey- 
ances we had seen in any other part of the States. Some 
are closed, some are open ; the seats are placed so that 
every one sits face forward. They are splendidly horsed, 
and you can fly in the face of the wind from one end of 
the city to another for five cents (2^^.). It is well lighted, 
and the numerous cars, with their coloured buUs'-eyes 
behind and before, illuminate the streets, like the flashing 
of monster fireflies. 

Here, as elsewhere, are handsome churches, museums, 
picture-galleries, etc. No one need ever pass a dull day 
in this intellectual and cultivated city. Like Washington 
and Philadelphia, Boston is exclusive in the matter of 
society. Its social laws are many, and strictly kept. 
Reserved and dignified in its everyday life, it is not over- 
given to demonstrative rejoicing, even among its best 
friends. We have all our little weaknesses, and perhaps 
Boston may be a little vain of its intellect and refinement. 
" We don't do *' that ' in Boston," is a common phrase, 
and considered strong enough to condemn " that " when 
it is done elsewhere. 

The rural surroundings of Boston are very beautiful ; 
but the interest of most tourists centres in the city itself, 



324 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

which, besides its many attractions, is the home of two 
men who have made the genius of America known and 
honoured in every quarter of the civiHzed world — I mean 
of the Poet Longfellow, and the genial philosophical poet 
and essayist, Oliver Wendell Holmes. 




CHAPTER XXVIII. 

FAREWELL VISITS. 

A Visit to Longfellow — The Poet's Home — Dr. Oliver Wendell 
Holmes — Newport — A Fashionable Watering-place — The Old 
Town— The " Cottages " — Homeward. 




|T is not admissible, as a rule, to turn the result 

1'^ B5 f^ I ^^ ^ private visit into public copy. To be re- 
J/,mS^ I ceived into a family circle on terms of social 
equality, and there gather up scraps of conversation, and 
turn the sayings and doings of the unsuspecting household 
into public property, is a most ungracious return for kindly 
hospitality ; therefore I have hitherto avoided all mention 
of my private friends in these pages. But every rule has 
an exception, and as the general world is supposed to be 
interested in, and are kept fully informed of, the most 
trivial circumstances surrounding the royal rulers of na- 
tions, I take it for granted that a much livelier interest 
must cling round the monarchs of mind, whose names are 
" familiar to our ears as household words " — whose gentle 
genius, playful humour, or tender philosophy has coloured 
the lives and gladdened the hearts of thousands, and 
helped to make the ignorant wise and the wise happy. 
Their thoughts come to us over land and over sea ; in- 

325 



326 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAiRIE LANDS. 

visibly and subtly, as the sweet fresh air we breathe, they 
permeate our lives, and become a part of us, circulating, 
with a pure ennobling influence, from the cottage to the 
palace. These are the only true magicians, god-inspired 
workers of miracles ; shrined in the sanctity of their own 
peaceful homes, they are working to give light to the blind 
old world, that it may be better for their lives when the 
Great Master calls them home. 

We should have been sorely disappointed if we had 
been compelled to leave Boston without paying our affec- 
tionate homage to Longfellow, whose name is associated 
with our earliest awakening thoughts. He had been so 
often with us in spirit for this many a long year, that we 
longed to see him in the flesh ; it was therefore with great 
pleasure we received an invitation to pay him a visit at 
his marine residence, Nahant, where he generally spends 
the summer months. Nahant lies on the shores of the 
Atlantic, just outside Boston Harbour. We had a glori- 
ous sail, for it was one of summer's loveliest days — earth, 
air, sea, and sky were all invisibly blended in one perfect 
harmony. Our brief, bright journey was soon over, and 
on turning a sudden point of the bay we found ourselves 
scudding along on the waves of the Atlantic. Nahant was 
before us. Longfellow's house was pointed out to us from 
the vessel ; it seemed to be lying close on the shore, but 
in reality it stands on elevated rising ground, open to the 
sea, but about a quarter of a mile from it. A carriage 
waited on the landing-stage to convey us to the house — 
an attention for which we were grateful, as a walk uphill, 
even for so short a distance, in the face of a blazing sun, 



FAREWELL VISITS, 327 

v/as not desirable. After a short breezy drive, the carriage 
stopped at a delightfully picturesque villa, or cottage 
orne'e, though it was more Hke a Swiss chaiet than either. 
A child was playing with its toys and dolls in the verandah 
which ran round the four sides of the house, and two gen- 
tlemen were seated in rocking-chairs facing the wide wind- 
ing road. As we drove up, one of the gentlemen rose and 
came down the steps and across the small front garden to 
meet us. There was no mistaking the man — it was our 
host himself ; we had seen him often gazing at us with 
stony photographic eyes from the shop-windows thousands 
of miles away, but no more like the poet's actual self than 
a stagnant pool is like the living sea. We observed him 
well as he came down the steps, with a gracious dignity 
born of a benignant spirit. He is tall, slight, and erect as 
a soldier on duty, with refined features, and a pale com- 
plexion, with a slight tinge of colour on his cheeks, almost 
as delicate as the blush of a woman, kind blue eyes, and 
wavy hair, which is more white than gray ; he wears a 
beard, has long shapely white hands that any lady might 
be proud of ; his voice is peculiarly soft, and his manners 
full of that gentle courtliness which is fast dying out. He 
is in his seventy-fourth year, but looks considerably 
younger. There is none of the physical feebleness or 
querulous spirit of age about him ; he seems now to be in 
the full autumn-tide of a hale, healthy life. Time is deal- 
ing very gently with him, leading him imperceptibly (as it 
is leading us all) down the valley towards ^' the silent 
land " which he has told us of. 

After shaking hands and exchanging the usual greet- 



328 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

ings, he presented us to his two brothers-in-law, who reside 
with him. The household was not entirely masculine, how- 
ever ; the poet's two daughters were out in their yacht en- 
joying a sail : the one is married, and, with her little child, 
is only on a visit ; the other, a very charming young lady, 
lives at home with her father. We went through the 
house and sat on the back verandah. A tempting-looking 
hammock swung there, and wild roses climbed up the 
lattice-work and nodded their odorous heads at us, and 
showered their pink petals at our feet. The poet gathered 
us a bunch of the fairest blossoms ; they lie faded and 
scentless in my album to-day, but the memory of that July 
afternoon at Nahant is fresh and green still. 

We sat there chatting in a pleasant way of the Old 
World and the New ; the gray Atlantic, scarcely wrinkled 
in the light breeze, lay before us. We watched the vari- 
ous vessels — light brigs, sloops, and schooners, all full- 
rigged to catch the breeze, and stately steamers on their 
march across the world of waters, and pretty yachts, some 
curtsying to their own shadows, others with their white 
sails spread, like gigantic swans skimming over the face 
of the ocean. Presently the one particular yacht we 
awaited came prancing over the tiny waves, like a steed 
that knows he is nearing home. The two ladies sprang 
ashore, and speedily made a pleasant addition to our 
party in the verandah. The time passed only too quickly. 
The pretty, fair-haired little grandchild sat in the lap of 
its blooming young mother, playing and prattling its baby 
prattle. It was an idyllic picture, with its pleasant home 
surroundings — a living illustration of three stages of life : 



FAREWELL VISITS. ' 329 

the dawn, the meridian, and the evening before the sun 
sets and the night closes in. 

The conversation was never allowed to flag ; somehow, 
the merest everyday chit-chat seemed to gather weight 
and pungency by the mode of utterance : a pointed word, 
a look, the turn of a sentence, gav^ to every commonplace 
phrase an attraction and a meaning it would not in itself 
possess. Mr. Longfellow is no egotist ; he evidently 
does not care to talk of himself or his work. He is full 
of that modesty which generally characterizes great 
genius, but is lamentably wanting in the many poetical 
aspirants who are buzzing about the world, trying their 
wings to see how far they can soar into those ideal realms 
where true genius sits calmly crov/ned. Whatever he 
says it is pleasant to listen to. 

During the few brief hours of a first acquaintance, it is 
rarely we get into a very deep or animated discussion on 
any subject ; we must first get the key to each other's 
minds, and become en rapport with each other's feeling, 
before the spirit of either can give forth its fullest, freest 
tones. As a rule, it is enough to skim the surface of the 
current topics of the day. 

We sat down sociably to a recherche little dinner, the 
first course of which was one of the national dishes, 
to which we were by this time well accustomed — clam 
chowder. The meal, gastronomically considered, was on 
strictly international principles ; we sipped the vintage of 
Champagne, while we enjoyed the pork and beans of 
Boston, and washed down corn-cobs and hominy with 
mineral waters of Germany. 



330 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

We were obliged to leave Nahant early, as the Boston 
boat was at the pier, and time and tide wait for no 
woman, even in this chivalrous land. Cordially and re- 
gretfully we said " Good-bye." The dear old man, with 
his delighful family group, stood in the verandah, shading 
his eyes from the setting sun, watching till we were out 
of sight. He is photographed on my mind ; I shall see 
him often in days to come, as I looked my last upon him 
then. 

The next day, according to appointment, we paid a 
visit to another celebrity. Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
who has made himself a name in the Old World as well 
as in the New. He, too, was residing at his country 
cottage at " Beverly Farms," another of those delightful 
rural retreats in the vicinity of Boston, being little more 
than an hour's railway journey from it. 

We reached Beverly Farms about noon — the fiercest, 
hottest part of the day. We had no idea how far the 
Doctor's residence might be from the station, but trusted 
to find some conveyance to take us there, feeling that it 
would be an effort even to walk a hundred yards in the 
heat of the blazing gun. The train steamed away from 
the platform, and we looked round in search of some one 
of whom we might inquire our road, and then looked 
blankly at one another. We had no idea which way to 
turn, and there was not a creature in sight to tell us. We 
walked through the empty station ; the ticket office was 
closed, and not a railway official was in sight. Only a big 
black dog was lying curled up under one of the benches ; 
every other living thing had mysteriously vanished. 



FAREWELL VISITS. 33 1 

Some labourers were working in a field not far from the 
station, and we noticed a pretty white cottage close to 
the roadway on the opposite side — scarcely a stone's 
throw from us. A gentleman in a linen suit, a straw hat, 
and carrying a green umbrella, came out of the gate and 
walked quickly towards the station ; we advanced to 
meet him, and inquired if he could tell us where Dr. 
Holmes lived ? 

"I am Dr. Holmes," he answered, "and you, I pre- 
sume, are the ladies I was hurrying to meet ? " We 
acknowledged that we believed we were. He turned 
back with us, and in another moment we all three entered 
the garden which we had seen him leave a moment 
before. It was a pleasant first introduction, and here we 
scored another delightful day. We found Dr. Holmes a 
most genial and agreeable companion — exactly, as from 
reading his books, we had expected he would be. He is 
neither tall nor short, but of medium height ; a thin, wiry 
man, with iron-gray hair, and eyes twinkling with humour 
and philosophy. Age has not dimmed their lustre, nor 
taken the spring from his elastic spirit ; he is as brisk in 
his movements as many a man at fiye-and-twenty. Mrs. 
Holmes, a gentle-mannered lady, just the wife necessary 
for such a man — one who would make his home a har- 
bour of rest and peace — came out to meet and welcome 
us. It is always pleasant to see a genius and philosopher 
well matched in his life's companionship ; unfortunately, 
we have so often to look on the reverse picture. The right 
woman is an inspiration to the one, a study for the other ; 
but the wrong acts like an irritant and blister, his whole 



332 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

life through. We were presently joined by his daughter 
— a brilliant young widow, a feminine edition of himself. 
Altogether we made a very pleasant party, and soon 
floated off into a brisk conversation. I wish I could 
reproduce his spirited, quaintly-turned phrases and quick 
repartee, to which the expression of his face gave addi- 
tional point and high flavour. I think the most dry-as- 
dust doctrine would quicken into life if passed through 
the alembic of his sparkling philosophy. 

It is not often that poetry and philosophy go hand in 
hand together as in this case it does. Dr. Holmes seems 
surprised to find himself so much more famous in this 
country for his prose works and philosophical studies than 
for his poetical productions. Scientific research and 
semi-philosophical lectures and literature are the occupa- 
tions of his daily life, but poetry is the darling of his 
heart, the beloved companion of his holiday hours, the 
airy architect who builds for his spirit a home we know 
not of. We retired to luncheon in a pretty parlour look- 
ing out into the flower-garden, where the bees were 
droning and the tall lilies and roses nodding sleepily in 
the sunshine. He seemed very much interested in our 
intonation, and frequently called attention to our mode of 
pronouncing certain words. He afterwards read to us 
some scraps and snatches of his new poems, which was a 
great treat to us, for he has a melodious voice, and reads 
with great emphasis and spirit ; indeed, we were so 
deeply engrossed by his brilliant conversations that we 
almost lost our train. With much regret we bade him 
and his family a cordial adieu. 



FAREWELL VISITS. 333 

There was one more visit to pay, and that the last. 
Time, the great "whipper-in," was behind us, bidding us 
gather our energies together, for we must soon — too soon 
— bid adieu to the New World, and turn our faces home- 
wards towards the old land. The next day we started to 
pay a visit to Newport, Rhode Island, whose fame as the 
most beautiful, select, and fashionable watering-place in 
America had long been familiar to us. It is only about 
four hours' rail from Boston. Our host and hostess met 
us at the station, and we were too much occupied in con- 
versing with them to take much notice of the town as we 
drove through it ; we made closer acquaintance with it 
afterwards. A half-hour's drive took us through the 
lower part of the town, the business quarters, and past the 
" old mill " which stands in a wide, open square. Some 
say it is a relic left by the Norsemen who once overran 
the land, and others assert that it was built by the earliest 
colonists centuries ago ; but nobody knows exactly when 
it was built, nor what was its use. It is a massive stone 
tower, with no visible means of entrance ; it must have 
been entered by scaling-ladders from without. It is now 
a ruin, by no means a picturesque one, but it is the only 
ancient relic on the island, and the people are proud of it ; 
they seem to have a vested interest in its antiquity, and 
regard it as a sort of illustration of their history and of 
themselves. Past this ancient monument, through a 
pleasant winding road, with charming villa residences, 
and shady trees on either side, and we turn through a 
pair of handsome iron gates into some beautifully laid 
out grounds ; a miniature park, indeed, with clumps of 



334 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

fine old trees of the most rare and varied descriptions, 
and evergreens and shrubs of the choicest kind, all so ar- 
ranged that the foliage of one should contrast artistically 
with that of the other. We roll through a long, curving 
drive, and in another moment stop before an old-fash- 
ioned red-brick mansion, with gabled front and pointed 
roof, which might have been lifted bodily up, and trans- 
planted thither from some ancient English manor. The 
house in its general style and all its arrangements was 
purely English, and both host and hostess were simply 
perfect, and combined the refined courtesy of our country 
with the lavish liberality and genial hospitality of their 
own. It is the same in quality and degree in most Amer- 
ican houses ; there is no stiffness or formality, but that 
peculiar kind of good breeding and bonhommie which 
makes the transient guest feel most perfectly at home. 
There is nothing fast, frivolous, or shoddy about Newport ; 
only the crhne de la crime of American society congre- 
gates there ; the fun-loving, vulgar herd, with their holi- 
day squibs and crackers, hold no orgies on its sacred 
shores. The floating population is clothed (metaphori- 
cally speaking) in broadcloth and fine linen ; it takes up 
its abode for a night or so at the one solitary and rather 
gloomy-looking hotel, and passes away. 

Newport proper, that is the lower, older portion of the 
town, is a dull, ragged, out-at-elbows sort of place ; it 
looks tired and worn out, as though it had had its day, 
and wanted rest. Indeed, it has been busy and bright 
enough in its time. A century ago it was a bustling sea- 
port ; scores of ships were riding at anchor in the bay ; 



FAREWELL VISITS. 335 

the wharves were crowded with merchandise, and sailors 
from all parts of the world wandered to and fro, creating 
a confusion of tongues, and perhaps a confusion of morals 
at the same time. All is lonely and deserted nov/ ; the 
wharves are dilapidated, rotting away; a few broken 
boats are hauled up on shore, and children play hide-and- 
seek amid the ruins of the old dead days. 

The fashionable Newportians reside in the upper por- 
tion of the town, which grows along the face of the cliif, 
and is held sacred to themselves. Lodging-houses or 
" genteel apartments " are things unknown. Only the 
aristocracy of the surrounding States gather here ; people 
of culture, of refinement, and of wealth. There are no 
flashily dressed people or Brummagem buildings in New- 
port, but a solid, substantial dignity greets you every- 
where. The road from the lower town winds upwards 
through a labyrinth of lovely cottages, covered with vines 
and trailing roses, past an ancient Jewish burial-ground, 
which has received no silent inmates for many a long 
year. It is kept in perfect order, and looks like a bloom- 
ing flower-garden, funds for this purpose having been left 
by a deceased Rabbi. The old synagogue, gray and 
hoary, stands in the midst, deserted, haunted only by the 
echoes of departed days. 

By this pretty winding way you reach the highway, if 
such a commonplace term can be applied to such a royal 
road. It is a fashionable thoroughfare and general drive, 
about two miles and a half long, bordered on either side 
along the whole route by tasteful villas. Some, indeed, 
are quite palatial residences ; every one is a specimen of 



336 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

architectural beauty ; each bears a sort of family resem- 
blance to the other, but no two are exactly alike. Never 
was such a wealth of architectural attractions gathered on 
one spot. Along the whole line one beautiful dwelling 
rises after another, till your mind becomes a jumble of 
points and arches, cupolas and towers ; and you don't 
know which to admire most. One part of the houses 
faces seaward, the other fronts the road, which during the 
season is crowded with handsome, well-appointed equi- 
pages, which would do credit to Longchamps or Rotten 
Row. The ladies sit in their verandahs, reading, chatting, 
or working, as the case may be, and watch their friends 
" go riding by." The air, laden with the salt sea-breeze, 
is soft and salubrious ; there is generally a sea- wind 
blowing inland, which tempers the heat of the sun, 
and renders Newport delightful when the cities are un- 
endurable. 

This is our last resting-place in America. Our hoHday 
is over ; the time has come when we must turn our faces 
homeward. No more lingering by the way, no more roll- 
ing over prairie lands, or lounging by inland seas. Re- 
gretfully, yet not wholly regretful, we say good-bye to 
Newport, spend half a hour in Boston, then on through 
Canada, a twenty-four hours' journey to Quebec. We pass 
through long flat stretches of country, where Nature seems 
to have exerted herself to show how dull, dreary, and 
monotonous she could have made the world if she had 
only tried. Everything is brown, dusty, and parched with 
the hot thirsty sun, which seems to have drawn every 
drop of moisture from the poor old earth. Occasionally 



FAREWELL VISITS. 337 

we catch a glimpse of a lazy, sluggish stream, creeping 
along as though it was trying to hide itself from the fierce 
blaze above. We were glad, when the night closed in, 
to get into our comfortable berth, and shut our eyes on 
the dreary landscape. At seven next morning we reached 
Point Levis, and were ferried across to Quebec, where our 
vessel lay at anchor. 

The cathedral bells are ringing, and the sound of their 
musical chime comes to us pleasantly across the water ; 
we look once more upon the shining roofs and gilded 
spires pricking the pale morning sky. We should have 
liked one more ramble through the quaint old streets, 
but the Sardinian lies at the quay, ready to start, the 
smoke coiling up from her great red funnel, her huge 
prow rising like the wall of a house from the sluggish 
water that splashes slowly against her sides. There is 
bustle on the decks, which are all swept and garnished in 
readiness for the advent of the coming passengers. Our 
good captain's genial voice hails us on the gangway ; the 
well-remembered faces of the ship's officers smile a wel- 
come to us as we pass along the deck ; last, not least, our 
kindly stewardess meets and marshals us to our cosy Ht- 
tle state-room. In the saloon — which is gay with ferns 
and flowers and polished plate and shining glass — the 
ship's canary, the pet alike of officers and passengers 
is trilling his loudest and sweetest. All is smiling, 
bright, and cheery, as we take up our quarters in 
the little floating world, which was so pleasant a nine- 
days' home to us a year ago, and is now to be so once 
more. 

15 



338 THROUGH CITIES AND PRAIRIE LANDS. 

An hour afterwards, the shining spires of Quebec have 
faded from our sight, we are steaming down the mighty 
St. Lawrence, and our faces are set for England and for 
Home ! 



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627 ^m 



THE END. 



I 



